


Tributary

by ingenious_spark



Series: Of Rivers [1]
Category: Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi | Spirited Away, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A cast of a million OCs, A lot of random cameos, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Cute Kids, Gen, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Minor Genderswap, Mythology - Freeform, Pre-Relationship, Referenced Child Endangerment, Spirits, Underage Employment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3484139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenious_spark/pseuds/ingenious_spark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tributary: noun; a river or stream flowing into a larger river or lake.</p><p>Moving to another town can be difficult, especially when you're just a kid. Leaving everything you know behind - friends, classmates, teachers, the nice guy at the ice cream shop who sometimes snuck you an extra scoop - is scary, even if you know the place you're moving to. </p><p>For Findecáno, son of Ñolofinwë and Anairë, brother of Turucáno and Írissë, it's going to be even harder. </p><p>Dropped into a dangerous and treacherous world of spirits and magic, he doesn't know which way to turn, or even who he can trust, but he has to keep his feet under him in order to stay ahead of the great Sorcerer and save his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A brief note on names: I prefer to use the name of the character that they would themselves use, which is why I'm using the Quenya names here in the beginning. Later on it's going to get a bit more complicated, but this will hopefully be explained adequately within the story. Also, it's an aesthetic choice on my part to stick solely to using the 'c' in their names where a 'k' sound is heard, and I am very aware of this. To that end, please enjoy.

Findecáno hated everything. Hated his cruel parents, hated his overly excited little brother, hated his crying baby sister. He was, as his mildly exasperated mother put it, in a thorough sulk.

He was also a twelve-year-old boy who was moving to a completely new town, where he knew absolutely no one except for his grandmother, uncle, aunt, and cousins. No friends, no schoolmates, no nice man at the ice cream shop who always gave him an extra scoop. No nothing.

He hated it. More than he hated anything else in the world.

“Look, Findecáno, there’s your new school,” his mother pointed out. He listlessly looked out the car window and made a face at the unfamiliar building. Turucáno giggled.

“Is that where I’ll be going too, mama?” He asked, and Findecáno tuned out the rest of the conversation. Normally he got along wonderfully with his family, but he had been the only one opposed to the move. Turucáno was only excited because he was best friends with their uncle’s oldest son, Findaráto, who was only a year older than Turucáno. Findecáno was too _old_ to play with _them_ , they were seven and eight! _Babies_. He rolled his eyes and sighed sulkily, looking down at the card he had in his hand.

It was a plain thing, bright yellow and colored with crayon stick figures of himself and his two best friends. It was a good-bye card, and he hated it, too. It was the last thing he would get from Ecthelion and Glorfindel in who _knew_ how long? He sighed gustily and stuck it in the pocket of his shorts.

Soon enough, Da had gotten them lost _again_. They stopped at the mouth of the overgrown dirt road, and Da peered out at it doubtfully.

“Did we miss the turn?” Mam asked, staring out at the forested area.

“We must have, when you were trying to hush Írissë,” Da admitted, and Mam looked around, up at the houses on the hill.

“Look, Ñolo, up there on the hill. I can see the house, the green one on the end,” she pointed, and Da craned his head to look out her side.

“You’re right. I must have missed the turn – it kind of looks like this road could get us up there, though,” Da eyed the road speculatively. Findecáno exchanged a dubious look with Turucáno, as Írissë started crying again with quiet, muffled sobs. Findecáno leaned forward.

“Da, I really don’t think it’s a good idea – these woods feel weird,” he said, and Turucáno nodded vigorously. Not only did the woods feel forbidding, they looked weird too. There were tiny little things like birdhouses littering the ground by the side of the road, some neat, with flowers and food, and some completely in disrepair.

“It’ll be fine, boys. We can always turn around and go back if it doesn’t take us there.” Da assured them, and they both subsided, though Turucáno’s hand found Findecáno’s and held on against the strange feeling. Mam sighed, and Findecáno’s eyes found the little houses again.

“Mam, what are those little houses?” He asked, and Turucáno peered out over him at the strange things. She glanced out the window and frowned a little, her ‘remembering-face’, he called it.

“They’re shrines, Findo. People pray to the spirits at them, and leave offerings. Folk out here follow the old religions.” She explained, and Findecáno pouted at the nickname. Nicknames were for babies, and he was practically an adult, now, at a whole twelve years old. “Though, really, it’s not a religion for them, it’s more like a way of life. I could probably find you some books on it in the library,” Mam looked pretty excited, probably because Findecáno was finally showing signs of interest in something that had to do with what was going to be his new home. Findecáno quickly scowled again, slouching back into the cushions. Even if it did sound pretty interesting, you never learned anything with _books_ – well, okay, you _did_ , but Findecáno preferred a different method – go out and explore for yourself.

The road was pretty badly overgrown, so Da didn’t see the building until they nearly hit it. Luckily, they didn’t, and Da exchanged a perplexed look with Mam. Then he got out, and walked up to the entrance, looking it over.

“What is this building doing out here in the middle of the woods?” Mam asked, frowning a little in confusion.

“It’s a relatively new building – all plasterwork. Looks like an entrance to something.” Da replied. Findecáno got out of the car, followed closely by Turucáno, and ran up to Da to take a good look for himself. Mam sighed, and got out of the car too, liberating baby Írissë from her car seat and grabbing the backpack they’d packed lunch in as a precaution. Da took Írissë, propping her up on his hip. “Well, come on, let’s go exploring.” Da said, and Findecáno grinned up at his father. Turucáno was more hesitant.

“It looks creepy,” the younger boy said stubbornly, standing next to the statue that was in front of the entrance.

“No creepier than the statue right beside you,” Findecáno retorted good-naturedly. The younger boy looked at the statue and jumped, running to catch up and clinging to Findecáno’s hand.

“I don’t like it,” he grumbled. Findecáno elbowed him in the side.

“I don’t either, but Da and Mam are already pretty far ahead. Come on!” They ran to catch up. The tunnel opened up into a place like a train station, full of dead leaves, benches, and old, dusty lamps. Findecáno used Turucáno’s shoulders as a prop to get up on his tiptoes as he peered up at the little, round stained-glass windows. He felt strangely reluctant to touch anything, and noticed that Da and Turucáno seemed to feel the same way. Mam didn’t really look fussed either way, but then, Mam was different from the rest of them, just a bit. Not in a bad way, mind, but a lot of things that bothered the rest of them didn’t bother her at all.

“Where are we?” She asked, and Turucáno left Findecáno’s side and clung onto her arm.

“I don’t like it, Mam, can we go back?” He asked, and she absently patted his hand.

“Listen, Turo, you can hear the train,” she said, and Findecáno listened – there it was, the muffled, grinding roar of a train on tracks. They stepped out of the station, Findecáno expecting train tracks, but what met their eyes was a lush, rolling green field, and a little further along, run-down buildings.

“What are those buildings doing here?” Findecáno asked curiously. Da scratched the back of his head.

“I think this must be an abandoned theme park or something like that,” he said, absently bouncing Írissë. She’d quieted down a lot now that someone was holding her, and was now much more interested in chewing on Da’s shirt. “There was a big boom, but they all went down when the economy crashed.” Findecáno rolled his eyes. That part was boring. The interesting part was – “Well, family? Shall we explore?” Da’s smile was pure mischief, a smile Findecáno was told he had inherited, along with the straight black hair and tall, lean build. Of course, Findecáno was still all knees and elbows, awkward and coltish where his father was graceful. Mam sighed, but grabbed Turucáno’s hand.

“No, Mam, I really think we should go back!” Findecáno’s little brother was stubborn, digging in his heels. Findecáno grabbed Turucáno’s other hand and tugged lightly.

“Come on, little brother. Just a bit of exploring and we’ll have lunch and go back. As long as we don’t touch anything, we should be fine, okay?” He reassured the nervous younger boy. Even as they spoke a gust of wind blew from the station building behind them, and it sounded as though the very plaster and brick was groaning. Findecáno looked up at the building warily, but Mam didn’t seem to hear it. They set off along the path up the hill, and soon enough he dropped his little brother’s hand to run and catch up with Da.

The next place they came to was like a dry river, stones trickled through with water, before a set of steps that led to the little village proper. They hopped over the stones with little enough trouble, and then Findecáno’s stomach rumbled.

“Da, do you smell that?” He asked, a puzzled from on his face. Da sniffed the air too, and smiled a little wryly.

“Trust a growing boy to notice the smell of food,” he said, shifting Írissë enough to ruffle his hair. Findecáno frowned a little, tucking the stray long locks behind his ears. His hair was just brushing the tops of his shoulders now, and he was really proud of it. Maybe he’d even get it as long as Da’s soon! Da’s hair, though usually tied into a braid, out of the way, reached halfway down his back. “Do you suppose they’re still open?” Da asked, and Mam shook her head, looking puzzled.

“If they are, they aren’t using that entrance. Where do you think the other one would be?” She asked, and Da shrugged.

“Come on, let's take a look around the village, see if it is still open, then we eat our lunch and be on our way, okay?” Da said. Findecáno nodded, and so did Turucáno, still looking pretty skeptical and hanging on to Mam’s hand with both of his. The village was in an old style, plaster cracked, faded and discolored. The signs were all strange, shaped like eyes or the heads of strange, fantastical creatures. There were lamps strung up, red paper with nothing that Findecáno could see to light them. Everything was closed up and no one at all seemed to be there, though there were the lingering scents of rich food.

As they went through, Da more interested in the architecture of the buildings than anything else, Findecáno noticed that most, if not all, of the buildings were restaurants. The ones that weren’t seemed to be bars, or some sort of building with a really weird, nondescript name. When Mam caught him frowning at one, she tugged him away quickly.

There were a couple of open-air restaurants, and here was where they found the source of the smells. Food was heaped on platters, waiting, it seemed, for guests. It smelled quite fresh, and much of it was still steaming gently.

“How strange,” Da said, and everyone nodded. They looked through a couple more of the places, before Findecáno got bored and wandered off, sure there was more to this place than weird restaurants with mysterious food. “Don’t go too far, Findecáno!” Da called when he saw him slip off, and Findecáno ignored him. They had stepped off the main little road, so he backtracked there, and started up another set of stairs. Once at the top, he looked at the old, gnarled tree in the middle of the little crossroads, and considered it briefly. Not sturdy-looking enough to climb, nor tall enough to make it worthwhile. He turned, and was confronted with a strange sight.

“A bathhouse?” He asked. “What’s a bathhouse doing in the middle of nowhere?” The building was beautiful, well maintained, unlike the shabby buildings of the village. It was also huge, reds walls topped with green roofs, detailed in gold. He could see trees growing in courtyards, and what looked like a tiny hot waterfall. To one side of the massive building was a great, tall chimney-pipe, releasing coal-smoke into the air, by the smell of it. The bathhouse was separated from the village, connected by a long wooden bridge. He walked out along it, and then peered over the railing, careful not to touch it. A train rumbled past, in the dry gorge below the bridge.

“The train!” He exclaimed softly, and ran to the other side of the bridge, before realizing he felt watched. He turned, and a boy was standing there, looking absolutely horrified. He was a little older than Findecáno, and had the prettiest red hair, tied back into a braid like Da’s, but reaching all the way down to his hips. His green eyes were wide, and scared.

“You shouldn’t be here! Go back!” The older boy was almost shouting, and the nervousness that was making Findecáno not want to touch anything suddenly tripled at the fear in his voice. He realized with a jolt, that it was practically evening, when just moments ago it had been early afternoon. “It’s almost night, go back, before it gets dark!” Behind him, the lamps of the bathhouse flicked on. “They’re lighting the lamps – quickly! Get back across the river, as fast as you can! I’ll distract them.” Findecáno honestly didn’t know who it was that needed distracting, but the urgency of the other boy had bled into him, and he bolted.

Back to where he had left his family, only they weren’t there. A dark-haired man stood over a small herd of goats, but there was his family’s clothing, lying in heaps, and his mother’s backpack, abandoned on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note - the beginning of this story stays pretty close to the film, but will soon begin to diverge pretty drastically.
> 
> The setting is intentionally vague, so that you can picture them wherever you'd like. I hope you enjoyed it enough to leave me a note on how you like this interpretation of both the wonderful Miyazaki film and the beloved Tolkien characters who now inhabit it.


	2. Chapter 2

The man vanished in a blinding puff of flames, and Findecáno darted in, calling for his family. The goats replied, and he startled badly, knocking over a dish of vegetables in sauce with one flailing elbow – the goats crowded around the spilled food, and he bolted, realizing that he could see shades, shapes of see-through darkness like people but not.

Panic set in. He ran through the streets in the way that they had come, calling out for his parents, his brother and baby sister. No one answered. He dodged shades as he ran, stifling shouts of fright, until he was back at the stairs. He hurried down them, tripped, and plunged headfirst into icy dark water. He surfaced, gasping and shivering.

He could see the little station building, the tower on top lit up in the darkness, and approaching from it – a ferry? The station building looked as though it was surrounded by an entire other village now, all lit up with colored lights of red and warm yellow. He pulled himself back onto the stairs and stood there, trembling. “What is going on?” He whispered, stricken by terror and just a tiny bit of exhilaration.

“Am I dreaming?” He asked the wind, sinking to the ground and clutching his knees. He watched, almost in a trance as the ferry docked before he stood up again, and in standing noticed a new and disturbing thing.

He was going transparent. He could see though his arm. On the one hand, _cool_ , on the other he could _see through himself_.

“I must be dreaming,” he muttered, dazed. The ferry bumped the stairs and let down a little gangplank. All the doors snapped open simultaneously, making him jump and stumble.

Body-less masks with full-bodied shadows poured out of the doors, and crossed the gangplank. Once they set foot on the stairs, Findecáno could see them – red-cloaked and identical, carrying fans. They almost looked like monks, or the courtiers of empires in times long past. He backed away slowly when he realized that the creatures disembarking were becoming stranger and stranger – things with tentacles, creatures that looked like enormous, almost anthropomorphized ducklings, one tall and stately pair who almost looked human but for their huge, lamplike eyes, the extreme slenderness and elongated limbs.

He very suddenly realized that more things were crawling up, out of the water, and gave a shriek, bolting up the grassy hill and away from them.

That was where the red-haired boy found him, curled into a ball trying to understand what was happening to him. He put a gentle arm around Findecáno, and the he startled, not having heard the other approach.

“It’s all right, I’m a friend,” the redhead reassured him, and he stared at the other in mute terror. He held up a berry he had taken from the folds of his tunic. “You need to eat this, okay? If you don’t eat something from this world you’re going to disappear. Don’t worry, it won’t turn you into a pig.” Findecáno frowned – pigs? What did pigs have to do with anything?

“A pig?” He asked, and went to bat away the other boy’s hand as he tried to put the berry to his lips. His hand went straight through the redhead’s, and he froze in shock. This allowed the redhead to put the berry in his mouth, where he automatically chewed. Swallowing was difficult, as the lump of terror had yet to go away, but he managed it.

“There we go, you’re going to be fine now. Come on, see for yourself,” the redhead said encouragingly, holding his hand out to Findecáno. Findecáno gingerly set his palm against the other’s and it stayed solid – he couldn’t see through himself anymore either, which was good. There was something else, though, like a jolt of memory as he touched the other boy. He knew him from somewhere – but where could it be?

“What did you mean, it wasn’t going to turn me into a pig?” He asked, and the redhead looked startled.

“You must have come in with someone – you’re too young to be alone, for a human. Did they not fall under the greed spell on the restaurants?” He asked. Findecáno shook his head.

“We brought our lunch in with us – it felt like we shouldn’t touch anything, so we didn’t. When I went back to find them, after you told me I needed to go, there was a man with dark hair – I think he turned my family into goats. Please, they won’t eat them, will they? My brother’s seven, and my little sister is only a year old, she’s just a baby!” He was clutching at the other’s hands now, and the redhead gave him a reassuring smile. Strangely enough, that smile did actually relax him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find them, and when I can, I’ll take you to them.” He said softly, before snapping to attention and scanning the skies warily. Findecáno looked up, and saw, at the same time as the redhead, a dark bird circling the skies. “Quiet!” The redhead crushed him back against the building, hiding him with his body, until the scout wheeled away. Findecáno discovered that he quite liked being close to the other boy. “Come on, it’s looking for any other intruders. They might know you’re here, we better run for it.” Findecáno nodded, and went to stand up with the other, but found he could not move.

“My legs – I can’t stand!” He gasped, and the redhead frowned.

“He’s activating the anti-intruder spells already, then. Take a deep breath, be calm,” the instructed, before gently passing a hand over each leg in turn, murmuring words in a different, old-sounding language. “Come on!” He pulled Findecáno up, and he practically sprang to his feet. Then, they were running. Only it didn’t quite _feel_ like running. It felt like there was wind under his feet – he was going faster than he thought possible! The redheaded boy led them along deserted back pathways, and the doors opened of their own accord, leading them through giant storehouses full of huge pickling vats, of curing fish and meat, a cold-house full of frozen fish and meat, and finally through to a yard of pig pens. Then they were in beautiful gardens, stopping before a little wooden gate. He could see the bathhouse’s bridge, and all the strange creatures crossing to it.

“I’m going to put a spell on you, to get across the bridge. You need to keep close, and keep touching me. Once we get onto the bridge you’re going to have to hold your breath until we’re across, or the spell will fail and everyone will see you. Understand?” The redhead said, gentle but very firm. Findecáno nodded, not quite daring to speak in such close proximity to the throng of fantastical creatures.

He clung to the other’s arm, walking a little behind the taller boy. They passed through another little gate, and right in front of some folk who he could only assume were bathhouse attendants, judging by the way they were calling out welcomes to the passing creatures. “I’ve returned from my task,” the redhead told them, and they nodded.

“Welcome back, sir.” Sir? Who was his mysterious guardian?

“Deep breath,” the redhead murmured, and Findecáno obeyed, “and hold it.” They stepped onto the bridge, walking with the others – it seemed to be working. But no – there was a being just standing in the center of the bridge, and it turned its head to watch as they passed. Findecáno’s heart skipped a beat. So preoccupied he was, he didn’t notice the tiny frog as it jumped to greet the redhead, and gasped at its jump. All too quickly he realized his error, but the redhead did something, freezing the frog where it was, and rushing them to a tiny side-gate, stirring up a great gust of wind that sent all the ladies’ skirts flying, much to their dismay.

They were quickly tucked away into a corner of the garden, listening to the hustle and bustle of people inside – they seemed to be trying to find a ‘Master Maedhros’.

“I’m sorry! I took a breath,” he whispered, utterly ashamed. The redhead shushed him gently.

“You did very well, Findecáno, don’t worry. They do know you’re here now, though, so you need to listen to me very closely and do as I say. I’m going to try to keep you safe.” Findecáno startled – how did the redhead know his name? “I’m going to distract them, and you need to get away while I do.” Findecáno nodded, though he really didn’t want to be left alone in this strange place. Best look at it like another adventure, right? He steeled himself, and the other boy smiled. It was the best kind of smile, because it made his green eyes glitter, and folded dimples into his cheeks. “You’re doing so well. Be still,” he instructed, and laid his fingertips on Findecáno’s forehead.

_When things calm down, go out by the back gate. There will be stairs; take them all the way down to the boiler room, where they stoke the fires to heat the water. You will find Círdan and his helpers there. Ask him for work. He will refuse you, but just keep asking. If you don’t work, Fëanáro will find you, and turn you into an animal. It’s going to be hard work, but it will keep you safe, until we can figure out how to get you and your family out of here._

The words were directly spoken to his brain, accompanied by images of the route he was to take. He looked up at the redhead with wide eyes.

“Fëanáro?” He asked, afraid to know the answer. The redhead nodded, placing a finger against his lips and lifting his head to scan the skies once more. 

“He is the fire spirit sorcerer who rules over the bathhouse and village. Never speak his name, or you run the risk of drawing his gaze. You must be careful. Now go,” He said, and rose to his feet. Findecáno grabbed his hand.

“Wait, how did you know my name?” He asked. The redhead smiled.

“I have known you since you were young. My name is Maedhros.” Findecáno released the other boy’s hand when he tugged at it gently, and he straightened up and walked toward the garden doors. “I’m here, what’s the matter?” He said, loud and clear. Someone opened the door for him and he stepped inside, leaving his sandals on the step. Someone else scooped them up and closed the door.

“Fëanáro has been asking for you, Master Maedhros,” one of them said.

“Yes, it has to do with my task,” Maedhros replied, and then Findecáno couldn’t hear anything else as they moved away. He carefully peered around his bush, and then crawled quietly to the gate.

The stairs were worse than he’d thought they would be. They went on _forever_ , steep and without any railings. He gingerly started down, testing the steps before he stood on them. About five steps down he became a little more confident, and a little more careless. The step broke, and he tumbled forward, rolling head-over-heels until he found his feet under him again. His momentum was too great, and he was forced to run down the steps, screaming the whole way down, adrenaline flooding his system. He was able to course-correct using the walls, and luckily there was a wall at the end of the stairs.

Lucky for his momentum, not so lucky for his face. He smacked into the wall hard, feeling the jarring thud through all his bones, and his wrists popped painfully under the pressure, as he had put his hands out to protect his head. He stood there for a few long moments, breathing deep, shaky breaths. A window opened above him, and his breath froze in his throat. He carefully looked back, and up. A frog – or a man, or a man-frog? – was leaning on the sill, smoking a cigarette. Findecáno very carefully and very quietly edged around the corner and continued down the stairs. The last three steps weren’t so much steps as bits of out-jutting wall with a crooked railing. He jumped them, finally reaching his destination. He stopped, staring at the battered green door. He took a deep breath. He could do this, he loved having adventures. This one was a bit more stressful than normal, but _adventures_. They were good. Cool. _Something_.

Mostly he wanted to eat something and then pass out for a few hours. But. Had to get somewhere safe first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, notice how I'm using the Sindarized version of Maedhros's name, rather than the Quenya Maitimo, which I would use in any other context? Yep. That's a big plot point that those of you familiar with Spirited Away will likely be able to guess at. 
> 
> :D
> 
> Um, I hope you're enjoying this if you read it and all that jazz.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me a while to get this put up, I went through a flash drive failure that lost like five pages and a hell of a lot of editing work, so it's been hard to get back into it. But I'm back! Wondering if anyone's actually reading or enjoying it, but back nonetheless.

He went in the door. The room was a hallway, he saw, full of pipes with wheels on them. It was hot, and full of steam, which made sense, it being a boiler room and all. The hall opened up into a warmly-lit room, he saw. There were two people, going back and forth across the doorway, with shovels – coal? They were small, but obviously fully-grown. No more than three feet in height, maybe less, with dark curly hair and skin the same color as the coal they carted. They looked like brothers. Neither wore shirts, and the muscles of their backs and their arms were really impressive.

He edged closer, his heart beating as fast as a rabbit’s. He peered into the room – along with the two short men, there was another, seated up in a booth-like thing. He was also shirtless, and had silver hair, though he did not look old at all. As Findecáno watched, though, the markings like tattoos on his skin moved, peeling up and operating various levers and switches, picking up a bundle of herbs and putting them in the strangely-shaped mortar and pestle he was using with his real hands. They didn’t look like shadows, but rather like actual ink, flowing across empty space.

He pressed himself back against the wall, and took a deep breath. Then he went in, hovering awkwardly against the wall, until one of the shovel-bearing brothers noticed him.

“Oi, Círdan!” He called against the noise of the machinery.

“Not now, Hildifons.” One of the boiler-man’s living ink tendrils impatiently tossed the braid of long silver hair over his shoulder.

“Yes now, Círdan. Visitor!” The other bellowed cheerfully, throwing his shovel-load of coal into the stove. Círdan turned, almost incredulously, and then saw Findecáno.

“What do you want, then, I’m busy.” The being’s eyes were big, and completely black in his face, and when he spoke, Findecáno could see that all his teeth were pointed like a shark’s.

“Please, Maedhros sent me. I need a job.” Findecáno said, and the brothers stifled chuckles.

“I’ve no work for you. These two lazy bums do it for me. Besides which, you don’t look strong enough.” Círdan turned away. Findecáno bit his lip.

“Please, give me a job!” He called over the noise. Círdan ignored him, and so did the brothers, returning to their shoveling. He looked around for another shovel, but the only shovels in evidence, even in the coal room, were the two the brothers were using. Lacking that, he picked up a piece of coal. It was _heavy_ , in a way that coal shouldn’t be. He could only manage two pieces at a time, carrying them to where the huge boiler opened. The door to the coal chamber was a window that opened and closed, keeping as much heat inside as possible. He was sweating like a pig by the time he carried his two pieces over and tossed them in. The brothers watched, interested, their eyes a shocking bright blue against their coal-black skin and sable hair.

He made two more trips, before Círdan seemed to notice that the brothers were no longer working, merely leaning against their shovels watching him. He banged a little mallet against the wheel that controlled the boiler door.

“Get back to work! You aren’t paid to stand around!” He he grouched at the coal haulers. “And you, don’t take other people’s jobs! Those two are lazy enough as it is.” Findecáno looked up at him, as the brothers exchanged a far-too-amused smirk and went back to work, swiping his now filthy hand over his forehead and leaving a wide, black streak.

“Please, sir, I need a job,” he insisted. Before Círdan could reply, a tiny, low door slid open, admitting an older teenager. He had strawberry-blonde hair that darkened at the tips nearly to red, and looked human enough. When he turned, though, Findecáno could see pointed ears; and that his eyes, large, almond-shaped, and set wide apart in his face, were like blue flame caught in glass. The hands carrying the tray had fingers tipped in black claws, not fingernails, and two short black horns poked through his hair. As he watched, the older boy exhaled a tiny plume of smoke between teeth like a cat’s set in a human mouth.

“Meal’s here! Where are your old dishes, I keep telling you guys to leave them out for me. Listen for once, willya?” He wore a what looked like a uniform, short red trousers with drawstrings at the legs, and a red tunic with a straight, round collar and elbow-length sleeves, with a white under-layer, visible through the slits in the shoulders, and a white sash and blue apron. The clothes, he suddenly realized, were identical to the ones that Maedhros had worn, only Maedhros had worn red trousers and a golden-yellow tunic with a red under-tunic and sash, with no apron. He looked at the others, barely noticing the way the three handed over hastily scrounged-up dishes and accepted the fresh, hot meal. All three wore the same kind of trousers, only these in a shade of dark brown, he saw as Círdan clambered down from his perch.

“You guys at it again? I swear you lot spend more time arguing than tending that damn boiler.” The boy was grumbling, as the three sat around a low table in the middle of the upraised section of floor. Findecáno’s stomach rumbled, and the teenager looked up from where he was setting food out on the table. He stared, and Findecáno stared back, petrified.

“Aah!” The teenager stood bolt upright and pointed at Findecáno. “You’re the human everyone’s in a tizzy about! They’re just about having a fit about you upstairs!” He yelped, voice cracking.

“That’s my nephew,” Círdan said calmly, crunching a fried shrimp.

“ _Nephew_?” the teenager squawked. Círdan nodded evenly, and Findecáno tried to calm his racing heart. “He’s not all human, you can tell if you look hard enough. Hasn’t decided what he is, yet, but he’ll grow into it. Anyway, the boy needs work, but I’ve got enough help. I thought you could take him up to Fëanáro? The boy can handle him, I’m quite sure.” Findecáno looked on with wide eyes, trying not to think about the comment of him not being entirely human. He’d know, surely?

“And risk my _life_? I don’t think so!” The teenager cried, smoke curling out of his mouth. The silver-haired boiler man withdrew something from the set of drawers across the room and dangled it temptingly in front of the teenager.

“Not even for this? Purest pomegranate essential oil, top quality. Your favorite flavor, if I’m not mistaken?” The teenager’s eyes grew even wider. Círdan turned to Findecáno. “If you want to work, you’ll have to strike a deal with Fëanáro. It will be tricky, but I believe you can do it, if any mostly-human can.”

The teenager licked his lips, and then snatched the bottle, tucking it in the folds of his tunic and picking up the tray with the dirty dishes.“Come on, then, kid.” He looked at Findecáno and frowned slightly. “Kid’s filthy, gimme a cloth.” One of Círdan’s tendrils fetched the required cloth and the teenager scrubbed at the worst of the soot stains on Findecáno’s skin. “Leave your socks and shoes, you won’t need them.” The teenager instructed, and Findecáno hastened to obey, scrambling after him.

“Leave ‘em there, kid, Isengar and I will put them somewhere safe.” Hildifons said. Findecáno nodded and said a breathless thank-you, and just as he was about to leave, turned and bowed to the three. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity.” He said, before running to catch up with the teenager. He managed to smack only his elbow getting the tiny door closed, and for that he counted himself lucky.

“You’ve got some manners in you, if nothing else.” He remarked. “Come on, hurry up. Stop gawking,” and gawking he was – it was a wide, hugely tall shaft full of service elevators on mechanical rope-and-pulley systems, and wooden stairwells. “Fëanáro lives at the very top, all the way in the back. Come on, step lively.” The teenager made sure the way was clear before beckoning him forth. The elevator started with a lurch that knocked him off-balance, leaning against the back of the elevator, which was just a single plank. The teenager looked at him disinterestedly. “Keep doing that if you want to loose your nose,” Findecáno jerked back, and watched in awe as levels flashed past, carrying glimpses of busy employees. Clearly this was the service section.

The teenager tucked Findecáno securely behind himself, and looked out carefully before leading him to another elevator, just as a female employee vacated it. Findecáno made sure to keep mostly out of sight behind the older boy.

“We’re almost there,” he said. Findecáno murmured an assent and stared out the slatted back of the new elevator, overlooking the bathhouse floor in grand style, bathed in steam. “Here we are.” The elevator came to a stop, and the two tall, graceful beings stood at the entrance.

“Going up?” The male one asked, in a low, melodious voice like the wind stirring leaves. The teenager was momentarily stricken for words.

“No, this elevator does not go any higher. I’m very sorry, you’ll have to use another one.” He said, a pleasant smile on his face as he edged out past them, Findecáno hot on his heels and feeling extremely exposed. They skirted around the edges, the teenager walking as though everything were perfectly normal, and Findecáno trying to emulate him. He kept looking back – the stately pair were following them. He pointed this out to his companion.

“Quit _staring_ ,” came the admonishment. Findecáno started guiltily. He hadn’t even realized he was. They reached the next elevator, and the teenager held down the call button, tucking Findecáno very firmly behind himself as the stately pair glided to a stop beside them. A crowd of beings with terrifying tusks and horns and an inordinate amount of hair exited the elevator, followed by an appropriately subservient frog-man, telling them where to find their rooms. As the teenager moved to push Findecáno into the elevator, the frog-man turned around.

“Celegorm!” He barked, and the teenager turned, calling an acknowledgment even as he swiftly shoved Findecáno onto the elevator. He tripped and fell on his face before scuttling into the corner and standing back up. The tall, stately pair glided in after him, effectively concealing him from view. “What is that smell?” The frog-man asked, and Celegorm frowned.

“I like that, not even a hello how are you today.” He said, sounding irritated.

“You smell like human!” The frog-man declared. Celegorm huffed a sigh.

“And now in with the insults.” He breathed a cloud of smoke that had the frog-man coughing. “I got a bottle of oil, but that’s the extent of it. You’re not seeing a drop of it.” He looked over his shoulder. “Any guests going up, please pull the lever down and have a lovely stay!” He caroled out, and the female being did just that. They rose, and Findecáno tried not to stare as the two beings seemed to have an entire conversation without saying a word. The elevator stopped at a hall that seemed to have private rooms – probably the floor the couple had wanted, but the female merely reached out and pulled the lever again.

When they stopped this time, all three of them leaned forward and peered out, before Findecáno stepped out proper, and bowed to the pair politely.

“Thank you for your help,” he paused awkwardly. “Why did you help?” He asked, curiosity insatiable. The female smiled, lighting up her clear blue eyes so that they shone, lamplike in her face. Her flowery crown seemed to bloom a little more and her long red curls, the color of maple leaves in autumn, seemed even curlier.

“Because we came here to celebrate our decision to make a child of our own, little one. We could not let a child be endangered after a decision like that. No matter what their race.” She told him, and laid a hand with too-long fingers on his head. The male did the same. He was beautiful too, with long, silvery hair like the bark of an aspen tree, and a crown of branches and vibrantly colored leaves. His bright green eyes seemed a little kinder, a little less remote.

“The blessings of Thranduil and Ninniach go with you, child. The trees will ever be your friends,” the male said, and then each of them bowed their heads and pressed a kiss to his brow, strangely tingly, and retreated back into the elevator and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! More characters! Everybody loves a bit of Círdan, right? Good. He's a little cranky, though in my head he's usually very relaxed and good-natured, but Findecáno did interrupt work, and they're busy. The Hildifons and Isengar here are Tooks, two of Gerontius Took's many children. Both were said to have gone out adventuring and never returned. And most everyone here should know Thranduil, and Ninniach is the wife that he had to have had, elves not being capable of agametic reproduction, in order for Legolas to exist. 
> 
> If anything is weird, confusing, or awkward I love constructive criticism, and please let me know what you thought! You can also find me on Tumblr at [oopsbirdficced](http://oopsbirdficced.tumblr.com/) (writing) or [dreamychaos](http://dreamychaos.tumblr.com/) (main).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for those of you with triggers: There is mild abuse (hair pulling) and the mention of child endangerment in this chapter. It's very similar to the scene in the film so use that to gauge your personal comfort levels, and stay safe guys!

Findecáno turned, suddenly feeling a lot better about his situation. He noted that the décor up here was gaudy, heavily ornate and cluttered. He approached the over-elaborate set of doors, and rapped the strangely-shaped knocker.

“Huh. This one has manners, it seems. Bit scrawny, though, haven’t hit your first growth.” The voice made him jump – a smooth, pleasant male voice, with just a hint of something that screamed danger to it. It came from the knocker, but then, it came from _everywhere_. The doors opened, by themselves. All of them. There were apparently a lot. He stared down the corridor, and gulped. The voice seemed to get impatient. “Come closer, child. I need to get a good look at you.” He steeled his nerve, which apparently took too long, because the voice abruptly said, “I said _closer_ ,” and something invisible grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked. He was pulled through the maze of rooms, all with the same elaborate, overdone grandeur, all the doors slamming shut and locking behind him, until he was thrown head over heels into a room like a parlor or receiving room.

The first thing Findecáno noticed was the almost oppressive heat. The fireplace took up practically an entire wall, radiating warmth like a furnace. He was immediately absolutely soaked in sweat, his skin flushing. A teenager was bending over him, to help him to his feet, and he gladly accepted the assistance.

This teenager looked an awful lot like Celegorm, but with black hair that had an almost glassy shine to it. After a moment, Findecáno realized that there were strands of obsidian glass and shiny gray hematite woven through his hair and the pair of braids that held it away from his face – not beads, but rather like someone had turned the stones to liquid and formed them to the exact contours of his hair. His eyes were not like fire trapped in glass, but rather like chips of stone, mottled blue and green and gray. His skin was human-looking, pale and pinkish, but it gleamed occasionally as it caught the light, with gemstone-fire in pinks, reds, and yellows.

He got to his feet, and turned to the other person in the room. His heart leapt into his throat, and his tongue felt leaden. That man was the one who had turned his family to goats, he recognized the tall, slim figure and long dark hair – he looked so much like Da that it gave his tummy an unpleasant lurch. His hair was brown though, the firelight - though it had dimmed now nearly to embers and Findecáno could breathe once more - caught the light in almost-red glints in the long, deep brown hair. This man’s eyes were exactly like Celegorm’s though, darker, but still the blue heart of a fire caught in glass. The claws, horns and the teeth were the same, as was the curling gust of smoke the man breathed at him. It smelled of wood smoke and oranges, and that cleared Findecáno’s head, strangely enough.

“Please, will you give me a job?” He blurted out, and the man’s hand lifted from where he was writing elegantly to make a purposeful, jerky gesture, accompanied by a murmured word in the same old language Maedhros had used. Findecáno found himself completely unable to open his mouth and he screamed, though it came out as muffled, panicked mumbles as he clawed at his skin.

“Shut up and stop talking. You look like a perfectly useless, scrawny brat. Besides, this is no place for humans, you’d just as soon be eaten.” He looked up at Findecáno finally, and a queer look passed over his face briefly, too quickly for him to read any of the tangle of emotion that it presented. “This is a bath house, you understand, for the spirits. A place where the eight million gods might rest their weary bones. Your family – and they were your family, you’re the spitting image of your father, so don’t bother denying it – had some nerve trespassing into our realm. Got what they deserved, in my opinion. Tell me, boy, the name of your grandfather?” The jerky motion was repeated, in reverse, and Findecáno gasped a breath when he found he could once more open his mouth.

“My mother’s father’s name is –” The man shook his head sharply, and breathed out an irritated gust of smoke.

“Your father’s father, boy. Hurry up, now.” Findecáno could only shake his head.

“I don’t know, sir, Da and Uncle haven’t got a father. Please, will you give me a job?” Fëanáro’s lip curled, and he gave a dry little chuckle – there were sparks in that little puff of smoke, which made Findecáno flinch just slightly.

“Only one thing for it, likely. You’ll make a fine little goat, my boy, and you’ll be with that pesky family of yours again." He paused, looking Findecáno over with a jaundiced eye. "I see you're trembling." Findecáno hadn't even noticed that he was - adrenaline and terror were flooded through his system, so it made sense why he would be shaking. "I am mildly impressed that you made it this far. Someone must have helped you. I must thank your friend, so please, tell me who it was, my boy." His voice had dropped to a soothing cadence, melodic and almost hypnotizing. Findecáno found himself relaxing ever so slightly.

 _"And risk my_ life _? I don't think so!"_ Celegorm's words rang through his head suddenly and he twitched.

"Please, give me a job here!" He blurted out, and Fëanáro's calm facade dropped.

"Enough of that from you!" He yelled.

"I need a job, please give me one!" Findecáno yelled right back.

"Silence!" The word was yelled once more, the fire in the fireplace blazing bright and hot once more as Fëanáro vaulted over his desk and prowled to where Findecáno was standing. Findecáno noticed, vaguely, that the dark-haired teenager was now tucked away in a corner looking mildly terrified. "Why should I hire you?" Fëanáro spat, grabbing a handful of Findecáno’s hair and yanking. Findecáno was forced up onto his tiptoes, staring up at the spirit with wide, terrified gray eyes. "Anyone can see you're a weedy, undergrown maggot who wouldn't be able to pull his own weight," he snarled, interjecting his words with vicious tugs at Findecáno's hair. "I've got nothing for you, forget it. I've got all the bums I need around here." He smirked cruelly, "unless you'd like the worst, nastiest job I can possibly find for you, slaving away until you breathe your very last breath?"

They were interrupted by a loud thud and a high-pitched shriek from what sounded like the next room. Suddenly, fire was licking at a set of heavy draperies and Fëanáro dropped Findecáno and hurried over, slapping at the flames and causing them to go out with just a touch. The someone in the next room, who really sounded like Írissë in a tantrum, was now screaming lustily, and new flames sprang up almost as soon as Fëanáro put them out.

"Calm down, my little one, I'll be right there!" Fëanáro called, before looking venomously at Findecáno. "What are you still doing here? Get out!" He snarled, but Findecáno had found his courage.

"Please give me a job!" He had to nearly yell to make himself heard over the racket.

"Don't shout!" Fëanáro snapped, but the look on his face had become a look that Findecáno recognized from his own parents' faces, and he wasn't really very scary anymore. "Please give me a job!" He repeated, just as loudly, and Fëanáro growled, looking over his shoulder at him with a look of utter loathing.

"Fine, just shut up, will you?" He snarled. After one last glare, he went through to the other room, and there soothed the screaming child. Findecáno stood there, feeling ever-so-slightly dumb, wondering what he was supposed to do next. The answer came in the form of the teenager uncurling from his corner, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from the desk and bringing them over to him.

He read the contract carefully. It was thorough, but he was confident he could later find a way to escape. He carefully signed his name, and by the time he was done, Fëanáro seemed to have been successful in soothing the child back to sleep or at least to quiet.

"You've signed your contract?" He asked brusquely, emerging from the other room, and magically erasing the burn marks in the draperies and his clothing. "I warn you right now, any complaints and you'll make a fine little goat." Fëanáro tugged on a queer heavy rope that was hanging from the ceiling. Findecáno wondered what it was supposed to do. "That damned oath I took, give work to anyone who asks for it. Hellfire, that was a stupid idea." Fëanáro was grumbling, but the angry fire seemed to have gone from his voice. The fire itself had simmered back down to embers, which made the temperature in the room close to bearable again. The silent assistant took the paper and pen from Findecáno and brought them back to Fëanáro. He looked down at the paper.

"You're Findecáno, then, boy?" He asked, and Findecáno thought the answer was pretty obvious, but nodded anyway. "Far too extravagant a name," he waved a hand over the paper and Findecáno watched in horrified amazement as the letters he had penned peeled up from the page, or rearranged themselves to a new form. "From now on you're Fingon.” He looked up at Findecáno with a peremptory glare. "Got that, Fingon?" When Findecáno didn't reply right away, he snapped - " _Fingon_." Findecáno jumped, inexplicably guilty.

"Y-yes!" He stammered.

"Master Fëanáro called for me?" A smooth, familiar voice broke into the conversation, and Findecáno looked over, stunned. Sure enough, Maedhros stood there, looking utterly serene and strangely lacking the warmth Findecáno knew could be found in his eyes.

Now that he was actually looking at the other in a well-lit room, he noticed that there were some alien properties about the redhead, too. His eyes had a slit pupil like a cat's and were tilted up at the corners, a little too high to be human. The lids were lined in a faint golden shade that Findecáno knew wasn't makeup, somehow. His fingers were tipped with bone-white claws, like the finger bones had melted into the fingernails. When he spoke, his teeth were sharp, with long incisors. There was a faint pattern to his skin, like scales or snakeskin, which only showed up when the light hit it just right, glittering faintly gold and scarlet.

"Yes, this brat's going to be working for me now. Look after him, get him settled." Fëanáro waved dismissively, and Maedhros bowed, leading Findecáno away.

"Your name," he asked, as they departed through the mazelike, artificially grand halls. Findecáno frowned. Maedhros knew his name, didn't he?

"Um, Fingon." He volunteered, thinking perhaps the other wanted the name that Fëanáro had given him. Once they were safely ensconced in the elevator, Findecáno chose to speak.

"Maedhros, what's-"

"No idle chatter. You will address me as 'Master' Maedhros." All the warmth in those bright green eyes seemed to have evaporated, leaving them cold and reptilian. Fingon shrank into himself, feeling small and lost and lonely. They descended into the working quarters, and he tried to make himself as insignificant-looking as possible, though every eye was on them. They came to the little desk in the center of the chaos.

"This is Fingon, Fëanáro sent him to work here." Maedhros said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Evidently the frog-man sitting behind the desk was not good at recognizing tonal implications, because he argued. "Even on Fëanáro's orders, we can't take a human," he protested, his grotesquely wide mouth curling in a sly smirk.

"His contract is already signed and sealed. It matters not." Maedhros said simply, to the surprise and consternation of all. Fingon bowed politely to the assembled masses.

"Please treat me kindly," he said softly, the rote pleasantries tasting ashy in his mouth from nervousness.

"He reeks of human," someone behind him complained, not even bothering to moderate the loudness of his voice. "Don't send him to us!" Maedhros looked around at the crowd. "If you bothered to look closely enough, you'd see that the boy isn't entirely human. Three days of eating our food and the smell will vanish. Long enough, and he'll become one of us entirely. Stop complaining and do your jobs. If he's useless, you can go ahead and eat him, but if I hear you haven't even given him a chance, there will be consequences. Get back to work! Where's Celegorm?" The crowd sulkily dispersed, and Celegorm voiced his displeasure from where he was propped against a doorframe.

"What? Don't dump the kid on me!" He yelped. Maedhros eyed him cooly.

"You said you wanted help," he said, and left it at that. The wide-mouthed foreman frog grinned greasily.

"Yes, that will work well. Give him to Celegorm." Maedhros ignored him completely and turned to Fingon.

"Go, Fingon." He said, and Fingon went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! Feanor! /flees
> 
> There's a really good reason he's acting like this, and he will mature and develop through the story, I promise! Yay!


	5. Chapter 5

"What a pain! I'm gonna get you back for this!" Celegorm called after the retreating redhead. "C'mon." He said to Fingon, and Fingon followed obediently. They rounded a couple of corners, and then Celegorm turned to face him, a smile breaking out on his normally sulky face.

"You pulled it off! I didn't think you had it in you! You're so dumb, I was worried. Keep your head, and if you need anything, ask me, okay?" Fingon nodded mutely in the face of such sudden positivity from the otherwise surly teenager. Suddenly he felt faint, hunger and the ebb of adrenaline leaving him weak. "Are you okay?" Celegorm actually looked concerned.

"I feel kinda dizzy," he admitted, pressing his hands to his eyes. Celegorm frowned, and led him slowly the rest of the way to what he called the boys' dormitory, which was different from the women's dormitory, and from the frogs' dormitory, apparently. It was a nice little room, and only a couple of people had gone to bed yet. The room's back wall was lined with cabinets, one of which Celegorm opened to reveal folded-up bed pallets and coverlets, pulling two sets out.

"It's about time for bed anyway. If you spread out the bedding, I can grab us something to eat before we sleep. But first, your uniform." He left the bedding on the floor, and opened the higher cupboard. "You wash your own clothes, though. There's a schedule for washing pinned to the wall. Apron, trousers, underclothes - I wonder if we have a tunic your size, you're a weedy little thing," he trailed off into a mutter.

"Hey, Celegorm?" Fingon asked. Celegorm hummed distractedly. "Are there two Maedhroses here?" He asked tentatively. He was still trying to understand the drastically different temperaments of the redhead. Celegorm made a strange, shocked noise, pinning Fingon with an alarmed look.

"I should think not! One is plenty, jeez you scared me," he said, before continuing his tunic hunt. He pulled out a couple of options, sizing them to Fingon's thin frame by sight, before finding the right one. "He's Fëanáro's henchman anyway, so watch out for him." He remarked as he pulled the correct size out, causing a slight landslide of folded clothes, Fingon sank to the floor, suddenly feeling too wobbly to keep standing.

"Jeez, you okay?" Celegorm knelt down beside him and rubbed his shoulders with surprising gentleness. "Just sit over here. Change if you feel up to it, I'm gonna clean up the mess I made and run for food." Fingon nodded, crawling over to where Celegorm told him to wait, a low table at the perimeter of the room.

He did get changed, eventually. Celegorm spirited his clothes away and made him eat, while he straightened Fingon's collar and repositioned his sash. He did feel miles better after he ate, though Celegorm had to catch his face from falling in his food a couple of times. He did manage to help Celegorm set out their two beds, as the other boys who worked the bathhouse drifted in to do the same, the chatter low and subdued with sleepiness.

Fingon slept. He woke at some point mid-afternoon from a half-remembered, terrifying dream and lay there, shivering with sleep-muddled terror. His shakes only increased when he remembered the gravity of his situation. He heard the door slide gently open and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt a careful foot shift his coverlet and tensed. A gentle hand rested on his shoulder.

"Meet me at the bridge. I've found your family, and can bring you to them." It was Maedhros' voice, and Fingon wasn't entirely sure he wasn't hallucinating. He sat up carefully when he was sure the other was gone, and looked around. There was a chance. He did want to ensure that his family, goats or not, were still alive.

The bathhouse was almost eerie in the light of day, dormant and deserted. Fingon carefully retraced his steps through to the boiler room. He was quiet as he slipped through, noting that Círdan was gone, and when he peered into the room full of coal, Isengar and Hildifons were sprawled out on the heaps of coal snoring like freight trains. He wondered where the brothers had put his socks and shoes.

Isengar's snores were interrupted with a cough, and he idly reached up and scratched his nose, before rolling over in his bed of coal. His startlingly blue eyes were open just a little, and when he saw Fingon they opened all the way.

"Ah, I expect you'll be wanting something back?" His voice was low and scratchy with sleep, but it fit with this place in a way that Fingon somehow knew his voice would not. He nodded an affirmative, and Isengar pointed out the tiny cubbyhole in the wall, that Fingon would never have noticed it if he hadn't. He bowed in silent thanks, tucked his socks in the fold of his tunic, and slipped the worn green sneakers onto his feet.

In the light of day, the stairs did not seem quite so insurmountable. He went up them carefully, noting that at some point, someone had come down and fixed the stair that had broken under him. He came out at the front entrance of the bathhouse, slipping back out the little low gate. He stood in front of the gate, and realized that Maedhros wasn't there. Had he dreamt it after all? Perhaps the other end of the bridge was the meeting place? He started across the bridge, startling slightly when he realized the same dark-cloaked, masked, half-see-through being was standing exactly where it had been the previous night. Why hadn't it gone inside? He gave a courteous, only slightly awkward bow as he passed the creature, and sped up a little at the same time. It made him nervous, for some reason. Once across the bridge, he looked back, and gasped. The creature was gone, vanished like a mirage. He stared in the direction he was sure he had seen it, and squinted a little. Nothing happened, nothing appeared.

He turned when he felt the sensation of being watched. Maedhros was there, once more looking warm and inviting. There was a fond look in his eyes, and Fingon smiled back shyly.

"Come this way," Maedhros invited, extending his hand. Fingon took hold of the older boy's hand and followed him through a series of dizzyingly beautiful flower gardens. They came through on the top of a hill overlooking a series of low, red-roofed buildings.

They bypassed a shed housing many large, healthy, fat pigs, and ended up at a large paddock. There were both sheep and goats in the pen, but Fingon could tell which of the goats were his family. They were the darkest ones, the majority of the goats were shades of lighter browns and duns. Fingon bolted to the fence, and stuck his hands through the beams. The tiniest goat, surely Írissë all creamy dark brown with huge gray eyes, butted against his hands, bleating noisily.

"It's me, Mam, Da, Írissë, Turucáno. It's Fin- Fingon!" He told them, tears beading in his eyes. Mam and Da didn't seem to be paying attention. Turucáno nudged at his hands with Írissë - Fingon swore that her plaintive bleating sounded like crying. He looked up at Maedhros, who looked grave and serious.

"The children may remember who they were, but your parents don't remember being human anymore." He said gently. Fingon gripped at the fence, feeling a great swell of rage and grief and shame bubble up inside him.

"Mam, Da, Turucáno, Írissë, I promise I'm going to save you! Just hang on and don't get eaten!" The words burst from him at nearly a shout before he whirled around and bolted away.

Maedhros found him quickly, punching a tree in a whirl of confused fury and helplessness. He gently wrapped his hands around Fingon's fists, before releasing one and bringing the younger boy into a secure embrace. Fingon clutched at Maedhros's shoulders and cried. Maedhros was the utmost of patience, rocking gently from side to side and humming a soft, mindless tune.

When Fingon had cried himself out, and was shaking from exhaustion, Maedhros pulled away slightly and chafed gently at Fingon's upper arms. The younger boy managed to look up, into his eyes, and those gentle hands pulled a handkerchief from the folds of his tunic and gently wiped up Fingon's face. He then let Fingon use it to blow his nose, and magicked it away again without protest.

"Feeling better?" Maedhros's words were spoken without malice or coldness, still in that even, calm tone. It was reassuring, in a way. Fingon nodded, his vocal cords too tight for speech. Maedhros smiled at him, a gentle expression. This version of Maedhros seemed to exude gentleness from his very being. "Here, I found something of yours. I took the liberty of laundering them," from within the folds of his tunic, Maedhros produced Fingon's old clothes. Fingon blinked for a moment before clutching them to his chest. The brown shorts and gray and blue striped shirt was his favorite outfit, but he hadn't recognized them for a moment. "Hide them, you'll need them to get back home," Maedhros advised, and Fingon nodded mutely.

There was something in the pocket. He pulled it out, and stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment. It was a plain thing, bright yellow and colored with crayon stick figures, two with black hair, and the third with hair so yellow it barely showed up against the card stock.

_'Findecáno: Good luck! We'll definitely be seeing you, so don't go forgetting us! - Ecthelion & Glorfindel' _

"Finde... Findecáno?" It sounded so _familiar_ , like something he'd heard his whole life - _wait_. "That's my _name_!" He turned shocked gray eyes up to Maedhros, who nodded gravely.

"That's how Fëanáro controls folk, by taking their names. You're Fingon here - keep your real name secret, else you give someone power over you, but take care not to forget it. Names have tremendous power, you must remember this." Maedhros said gravely. Findecáno nodded.

"He nearly got me, I think. I was starting to forget who Findecáno was." Maedhros smiled wryly.

"Take care, Findecáno. If he steals your name, he will rule you forever, and you'll never find your way back home." The warning was tempered by a warm arm around his shoulders, drawing him close to the warmth of the older boy. "I no longer remember my own name. It was taken a long time ago, when I was younger, and perhaps more foolhardy." Findecáno looked up into those bright green eyes.

"You don't remember your real name?" This made Findecáno unfathomably sad for some reason. Maedhros smiled.

"It's strange, I remembered yours. We must have met, before." There was something wistfully somber in his voice, and Findecáno felt an echo of that feeling deep in his chest. Maedhros shook his head, dispelling the sadness of the mood. "Here, I brought you some food. Eat up, I've already deprived you of sleep." The fare was simple, soft, fragrant bread baked with a filling of cubed pork and vegetables in a savory sauce. The second roll that he pressed on Findecáno was filled with sweets, chopped nuts and dried fruits soaked in honey.

"This is really good," Findecáno observed between bites, suddenly feeling utterly ravenous. Maedhros smiled, bringing out the dimples in his cheeks.

"Thank you. It's not a hobby I often get to indulge in, but I do enjoy cooking." He replied. Findecáno looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"You made these? Wow, that's amazing! You're, like, as good a cook as Da!" He said admiringly. Maedhros smiled.

"Your father does the cooking? Can you cook, little swan?" He asked, teasingly. Findecáno blinked at the nickname, but shrugged it off for the moment.

"I can make sandwiches. Though Mam or Da has to be in the kitchen too when I do it, in case something happens or I need to use a knife. Da cooks really good. Mam made water catch fire once. She can make sandwiches and salads, though, and she does the chopping for Da. Da jokes sometimes that he learned to cook out of self-defense." Maedhros was startled into laughing, a warm, bell-like sound that made Findecáno smile too. "Why swans?" He asked, and Maedhros looked distant for a moment.

"Swans are beautiful and graceful in adulthood, but small and awkward as children. They are fierce in their protection of those they love. It fits you." Findecáno blushed violently.

"H-how do you know if I'm going to be beautiful when I grow up?" He asked, ducking his head in utter embarrassment. Maedhros chuckled.

"Call it a hunch, o cygnet." He stood from where they had been seated on the lush grass beneath the tree. "Come, I'll heal your knuckles while we walk. I shouldn't deprive you of too much of your day's sleep. Celegorm will have my head." Findecáno giggled a little and stood up too. Maedhros took his hands while they walked, and frowned over the tears in the skin. "You should really learn how to fight properly. Ask Celegorm to teach you." He said absently, before bowing his head and _licking_ Findecáno's knuckles.

"Bwuh?" Findecáno said intelligently. Maedhros looked up, a puzzled look on his face.

"Surely you have seen healers at work?" He asked. Findecáno cast his eyes around desperately.

"Human? We don't heal by licking, Maedhros." He reminded the other. Maedhros sighed, looking faintly exasperated.

"I wonder how you ever heal, then, that's ridiculous. Now stop twitching and hold still. You do realize you're not fully human, right?" He asked, completely out of the blue. Findecáno blew out a long breath.

"Yeah, about that. You're not the first to say so, and I'd really like to know what that means! Also why the big guy upstairs asked me about my grandfather." He said, waving his unoccupied hand in the air. "It's my life, and my body, or- or soul, or _whatever_ , and I'd really like to know what's going on!" He puffed out his cheeks in irritation, and then sighed. "Please, Maedhros," Maedhros's immediate reaction to this was to hug Findecáno, which he wasn't exactly complaining about.

"It's all right, Findecáno. Somewhere in your lineage, a spirit intermingled with your family line. If he asked about your grandfather, he probably thinks that is the source. It's not a bad thing, Findecáno. It just means that there is an otherworldliness to you that we can see if we choose to look for it. It's nebulous right now, indefinite, like you're a newborn that hasn't chosen a proper form yet." Maedhros explained. Findecáno sighed.

"Well I guess that does explain some stuff. Granmam doesn't like talking about Granda. Da says he walked out on them right after Uncle was born and they never saw his again. Da said he thought Granda had finally remembered who he really was. He had amnesia, apparently. Only thing he could remember was his name." His face scrunched up in a frown. “I think it musta been the last part of Da and uncle’s names, because Granmam says she named them after him. Finwë.” As soon as he said the name, Maedhros slapped a hand over Findecáno's mouth, eyes wide and immediately searching the sky.

"Never say that name aloud. And yes, that would be where you received your ancestry. That man was the father of your 'big man upstairs'. He vanished before I came to these lands, leaving his wife, the swan spirit who owned and ran the bathhouse to die of a broken heart. He never forgave that man for her death." Maedhros looked deadly serious. Findecáno felt utterly stricken.

"Wait, does that mean he's my - what, _half-uncle_?" He squeaked past Maedhros's hand. Maedhros looked momentarily mildly befuddled.

"I suppose? Inter-relation between spirits is a little trickier than with humans." He explained. "I'd have to consider that carefully. In the meantime," he waved to the gate, and Findecáno realized that it was the gate they had met at, and they were already at the bridge. "Here we are. Can you find your way back?" Maedhros asked, and Findecáno nodded decisively.

"Yes, thank you, Maedhros. I'll work hard!" He assured the older boy. Maedhros smiled fondly. "I'm sure you will." With that, Findecáno ran off across the bridge, suddenly incredibly eager for sleep. He turned to wave once more to Maedhros, only to find him gone, and a winding strip in the sky, off in the distance, glittering gold and red like the sunset reflected on water. He smiled, and ran off to get inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am curious if anyone cottoned on to the fact that Findecáno had, indeed, briefly forgotten his own name, and when it happened? :D 
> 
> Also I know that everyone's setting up Feanaro to be the Big Bad, but remember, everything that is told is told by the perspective of who is telling it. Also there will be a reason behind the fact that none of the Feanarions seem to know each other. 
> 
> Soon we will start the major divergence form the film!
> 
> ALSO I LOVE CELEGORM THE END. :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild swearing and several OCs in this one.

Hildifons sneezed, waking himself up abruptly from a sound sleep. He shifted, rolling over and grumbling slightly, before identifying the smell. The boy, what was he called? Círdan's 'nephew'. He looked around and saw the boy, sleeping curled around a set of clothes - his human clothes, clever child to get them back. He poked Isengar in the side viciously, and his brother cracked a cranky bright blue eye.

"What?" He croaked grouchily.

"Take the boy's clothes, would you? Put them with his shoes and socks, and keep them safe. I'm going to take him up to the dormitory." He said quietly. In the distant grumbling of machinery, his voice wasn't very loud. Isengar grumbled a little, but did as he was asked, while Hildifons carefully picked up the boy, Frowning a little as he caught a whiff of magic to him. He was settling, already? He hadn't thought that there was enough blood in him to settle so fast. Either there was strong blood or a strong influence, or both. He shuffled off, marveling at the fact that even his slightly jostling movements didn't wake the boy. 

* * *

" _Hildifons_?" Celegorm's voice was utterly incredulous, and thick with sleep. The teenager rubbed his eyes, and still had a hard time believing what he was seeing. The coal spirit was stood in the half-open door, a very unconscious Findecáno balanced on his hip like one might carry a much younger child (his feet were almost touching the floor, a truely ridiculous sight), and had most definitely been the source of the insistent nudging of his foot. "What - _Fingon_? Why wasn't he here, asleep? How did he get you out of your lair, I could swear you haven't left that boiler room in a hundred years."

"A slight exaggeration. I found him, asleep on my floor. I don't know what he was doing, I didn't have the heart to wake him. He looked so peaceful, I just carried him up here instead." Hildifons looked nostalgically fond. "I suppose he's having mid-afternoon assignations, eh?" He wiggled his eyebrows, completely breaking his previous mood. "So scandalous." Celegorm rolled his eyes heavenward.

"Just give him to me, you old fogey, and return to your lair." Celegorm flipped back the covers of Findecáno's bed and helped the short spirit lay him down. "Yeesh, he sleeps like a rock," Celegorm muttered. Hildifons chuckled, saluted, and closed the door. Celegorm listened to his receding footsteps, and flipped Findecáno's covers over him, before snuggling back into his own and falling back asleep.

* * *

"Get up, Fingon, you lazybones! Time for work!" Findecáno was rather abruptly awoken by someone taking up the edges of his pallet and rolling him off of it onto the woven mat floor. He yelled in distress, and someone laughed. "Your own fault, lazybones. If you hadn't snuck off in the middle of the day, you wouldn't oversleep. Anyway, fold up your bedding, and we'll have just enough time to grab breakfast before work, kay?" Findecáno managed to untangle himself from his coverlet and looked over at Celegorm, who was already hefting his pallet and coverlet for storing away.

"Right," he scrambled to do the same. A boy with wild red hair, feathers coating his arms, and a mask-like pattern across his eyes chuckled a little. He looked about Findecáno's own age, and wore a different colored uniform than theirs, a sky-blue tunic and trousers with a dark red sash.

"Let the new boy have an adjustment period, Celeg. He just got here!" He said, voice mellow and soothing. Celegorm rolled his eyes and shoved the smaller boy out of the way.

"Adjustment periods are for the weak. He's my brand new minion, Asa, I'll do what I please, so shut your nattering beak." He said rudely. Asa merely smiled somewhat apologetically at Findecáno.

"Hey, apologies for him. Pretty sure he was raised by wolves - naw, he'd have come out better adjusted if that were so. Raised in a barn, he was. All bark and no bite, though, it'll be my sister you'll have to watch out for," he stuck out a lightly scaled, taloned hand. "Tintastel. You can call me Asa." Findecáno shook the other's hand, grateful for a friendly face in this baffling place.

"Fingon," He said, and Celegorm shoved them both out the door.

"Enough chitchat, boys, we'll be late for breakfast." Fingon looked bewilderedly out the window - the sun hadn't even gone down, sunset-colors not yet touching the sky. Asa caught his eye and rolled his own.

"Oi, asshat!" As they joined the bustling crowd to grab their nametags, they were joined by a girl, younger than Asa and Findecáno. She looked bad-tempered, and she punched both Asa and Celegorm hard in the arm when she joined them up. She was no more than ten, with a dark nose and ruddy skin to match her red hair striped with white. Her fingers were strangely jointed and clawed, as were her feet. Findecáno noticed belatedly that Asa and the newcomer both had wrappings around their toes, presumably so they wouldn't scratch the neat wooden flooring.

"There you are, you little shitface," Celegorm returned the caustic greeting. Findecáno shot a bemused glance at Asa. "Look, they gave me a minion," Celegorm said, and shoved Fingon's shoulder. The girl, whose nametag hanging off her belt proclaimed her Niphredil, gave him a jaundiced once-over.

"Kinda scrawny," she retorted, and Findecáno felt mildly insulted.

"No scrawnier than you, stripeyhead," the words came out of his mouth without him really intending to say them, but she just laughed, to his relief.

"Got spirit, dontcha? That will get you far, but we're not to mouth off to the customers," here she rolled her eyes, before turning back to Celegorm. "What the shit were they thinking, though, giving you a minion? You're a lazyass who can do your own damn work." Celegorm grimaced at her, and then jostled the three younger children in front of him and into the serving line.

"Shut up and grab a tray, you little nuisance. You too, Fingon, come on." Each of them grabbed said tray, and went through the line, each receiving a bowl of piping-hot clear soup, a dish of steamed rice, and a plate of fish and steamed vegetables. They found a relatively unoccupied table and settled in on the benches, Celegorm running for tea and water for all of them.

"He's actually kinda nice, isn't he?" Findecáno said quietly to Asa. Asa nodded and grinned, slurping down his soup. Findecáno followed suit.

"Like I said, all bark and no bite. Thanks for the tea, Celegorm!" Celegorm merely grunted, nose-down in his soup bowl already. When he surfaced he shot Asa a skeptical look.

"You better actually drink that water, too, Tintastel. All of you should, and if I see you neglecting it, I _will_ pour it down your tunics." Asa nodded, and so did Findecáno. Niphredil merely grunted, busy scarfing down her rice and fish.

They finished their meals just in time for a bell above the dining hall's door to ring, and Celegorm directed Findecáno to grab his tray, and showed him where their dirty dishes went.

"We're not on the kitchen staff, so we don't have to clean them," Celegorm explained with a sharp-toothed smile.

"Instead we get to clean the rest of this place, top to bottom. Including the baths." Niphredil interjected caustically. Celegorm rolled his eyes and shepherded them along, though Tintastel was whisked off halfway to wherever. Findecáno had to half-skip-run to keep up with Celegorm's long stride, and the older spirit looked over his shoulder at him and snorted a chuckle.

"Little bird hopping." he said, though he did not elaborate. Findecáno puffed his cheeks out in annoyance, but did not ask for clarification. It was pretty self-explanatory anyway. They went and got their supplies, each getting a wooden bucket filled with cloths, wooden-handled scrubbing brushes, and other old-fashioned cleaning equipment. Each section was also given a wooden-handled, soft-bristled broom. Then they were given their assignments. Findecáno and Celegorm were section eleven, and sections ten through twenty were given the second level eating and meeting rooms to clean out.

It was good, hard work. Niphredil was on section twelve, so he got to know the caustic girl a lot more, and exchanging weird, made-up insults with her was a good way to make the work go faster, especially when Celegorm joined in. Her partner was another of the boys from their dormitory, a soft-spoken, sweet, but sarcastic bear spirit called Tolmedli. Findecáno wondered if he'd always been sarcastic, or if he became sarcastic out of self-defense from working with Niph for however long.

They were done soon enough, and Findecáno hadn't been so slow as to be too much of a nuisance. At least, that was what Celegorm said; ruffling his hair as they went to get their bath assignment.

"We'll work up that stamina of yours. Now, we have to clean the bath and make sure it's stocked, and then we can catch a quick lunch before coming back to be runners.And we have to quick-clean between customers. We usually only have two groups a night, unless we're really busy." They were assigned to bath twelve, across from bath eleven, where Niphredil and Tolmedli were working. Niph made a face as they passed, seemingly just because she could. Findecáno rolled his eyes. Girls were weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's gonna be slow for a little while, because the time-frame in which this story is operating in is a lot longer than film. I wanted to give you guys the gist of how Findecano's spending his days before Kaonashi comes and shitwrecks everything. Also, I will tell you right now, Kaonashi, or No-Face, will be played by himself, as a cameo for the film. Also because it wasn't working to replace him with anyone. /shrugs
> 
> ALSO BIGBRO!CELEGORM IS DELIGHTFUL, HUSH. He's so grouchy but sweet! 
> 
> I shan't apologize for my OCs, but I will note here that I have joint ownership over Mirdan (not currently here), Niphredil, and Tintastel, as they were originally my dear husband [WaywardDesertKnight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardDesertKnight/pseuds/WaywardDesertKnight)'s brainchildren, but I have permission to use them, as he has permission to use Tolmedli, Gwaeleth, and Rhanaur (last two also not here yet).


	7. Chapter 7

The bathing area was somewhat dirty - mostly just a bit of grass on the floor, a couple of oldish dirty puddles. Findecáno hopped up the side of the inset tub to check on the inside - a bit scummy, needed a good scrub. Weird sticky substance near the rim. He turned to Celegorm, only to see the older spirit squinting at him in an irritated, or maybe puzzled, way.

"You're settling already?" He asked, half to himself. He raised one clawed hand and _tweaked_ the air in front of Findecáno. Findecáno promptly sneezed, startling himself. "Huh. Imagine that." he said, and then picked up Findecáno's bucket, dumping his tools into the bath. "Come on, little cygnet. I'll get you some water and you can do the bath. I'll do the floors and the stocking." Findecáno blinked.

"Wait, what'd you call me?"

"Called you cygnet, cygnet. Get in there and get to work," he snapped, already leaving with both buckets under his arms. Findecáno blinked, before nibbling his lip and shrugged fatalistically, hanging himself over the edge of the bath and dropping. The bath was a good deal deeper than he was tall, perhaps a head and a half. He absently hoped that Celegorm would be willing to fish him out later. He picked up one of his scrub brushes and started to work.

A few minutes later, he heard feet approaching, and Celegorm called, "hey, where are you Fingon?"

"I'm in the bath," Findecáno replied. _'Like you told me,'_ he did not add. Celegorm's head poked over the rim and he whistled lowly.

"Jeez you're shrimpy. Anyway, that'll go faster with some hot herbal water. If I lower it down can you grab it?" He asked. Findecáno nodded, setting his brush down and holding up his hands. "All right, here we go," the bucket was safely passed down, Findecáno only managing to slosh a little bit on the hem of his trousers. Celegorm chuckled. "Klutz." Findecáno rolled his eyes and went back to work.

It went a lot faster with the herbal water, and Findecáno vaguely wondered what was in it. It smelled both medicinal and familiar, and was tinted a very faint greenish color, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Soon enough, though, the bath was as clean as he could make it. He found the drain-plug and opened it, and upended his bucket, swirling away the last of the scum with the water, before replacing it again.

"Celegorm," he called. Celegorm's head came into view. "I'm done here, can you help me out?" He asked, and Celegorm rolled his eyes before taking Findecáno's bucket when he passed it up, and them dropping a hand for him. With the leverage of the remarkably strong teenager, Findecáno was able to scramble out okay. He was met with an absolutely beautifully clean floor, with neat little stools for sitting on, and buckets, cloths, and brushes for bathing before one soaked, and a whole stock of bottles with hand-made paper labels. He whistled, impressed. "Am I that slow?" He asked Celegorm. The fire spirit snorted and ruffled his hair.

"Nah, I just gave you the sedentary chore. The floors aren't too bad, and the stocking really just requires a lot of running. Technically I gave to the harder bit, but it would have taken you a lot longer to get the things, on account of you don't know where anything is kept, and the frogs who do some of the distributing mighta' given you a hard time." Findecáno nodded, seeing the logic in Celegorm's plan. The fire spirit peered into the bath. "Actually, I think you got it cleaner than most of us do. We've done it so long sometimes we cut corners." A loud snort interrupted them.

"Maybe _you_ cut corners, but not all of us do, assjacket." Celegorm rolled his eyes.

"Done already, you mangy little fox?" He asked. Findecáno frowned; wasn't Niphredil a-

"I'm a _badger_ , jackass." She growled, stomping across the raised walkway between the baths.

"Yeah, whatever," Celegorm waved a dismissive hand. "Don't you have somewhere you should be?" He nodded pointedly back the way she had come. Now it was Niph's turn to roll her eyes.

"The only thing there is Tolmedli mooning over Gwaeleth. Retch." She said flatly. Findecáno tried to remember if he'd met a Gwaeleth yet.

"I think the guy's trying to court her, actually." Celegorm offered. Tolmedli was closer to Celegorm's age than Findecáno or Niphredil's, maybe around sixteen.

"And you'd be right on that count," a familiar voice chirped. Findecáno spun around, to find Tintastel, bright-eyed and happy, just coming down into the bath. "Just making sure everything's in order. Fingon, this is Rhanaur, Rhanaur, Fingon." The osprey was accompanied by a rather lovely person of indeterminate gender, whose skin seemed to be all-over scaled - not like Maedhros's impression of scales, but actual ones, patterned like a snake's in greens and browns. Their eyes were large and dark, like a snake's, and the tongue that flicked out between their lips was thin and forked at the tip. They looked about the same age as Tintastel and Findecáno.

"Nice to meet you. I'm assigned host with Niph and my dumb brother. Asa here is one of your hosts." Rhanaur explained.

"You're going to want to run the bath now, Celegorm, mineral soak. We've the Lord and Lady of the Great Greenwood booked first half. Second half is," Asa chirped, before sniggering a bit, "you'll never believe this one, The King Under The Mountain, and Queen." Celegorm scowled. "They're both guests right now? But the Lord of the Great Greenwood hates the King Under the Mountain!" He objected. Asa shrugged.

"It turns out that their wives are really good friends? They're breakfasting now - they get up early." Asa sounded mildly impressed. Rhanaur chuckled. "Vanyandessë is up there still entertaining them. We need to get back soon, she sent me down, like Gwaeleth sent down Rhanaur." At that, Rhanaur turned to Niphredil.

"We've got a sulfur soak first thing, sorry. Ingwë of the Godsmountain is here, and ridiculously happy at everything." Rhanaur rolled his eyes and Niphredil made some truly awful retching noises. "But yeah, you're right. Big brother over there is courting Gwaeleth. Not that I mind, she's a sweetheart and I think she'll be good for him, but I would like to talk about something other than her when we have sibling time." Rhanaur looked mildly grumpy. Asa laughed.

"I dread the day when big brother or the little mite start pining," he confided. Niph huffed, irritated.

"Shut your pie-hole, dumbass," she griped, before storming back across the aisle, grumbling under her breath about stupid brothers, nose wrinkled. Asa laughed again, and Celegorm yawned suddenly.

"Anyway, we're running that bath, and then you're on your own til we get some lunch in us, kids. C'mere Fingon, let me show you how to do this." Celegorm pawed through his apron until he found a red lacquered tag of some sort, with writing on it. Fingon could sort of read it - it was like all the other writing in this place, almost right but still weirdly confusing. "Mineral bath. Popular with lots of our customers. There's also salt baths, different types of herbal baths, sulfur soaks, mud baths. Don't worry," he hastened to add at the look on Findecáno's face. "The mud baths are frog work." As he spoke he pressed in on a panel of wall. A slat popped open, revealing a length of cord dangling inside. Celegorm took the end of it and clipped it to the cord. "This tells Círdan what kind of water to send us. You yank on it like this and-" He yanked and let go, and the cord zipped up and out of sight. Findecáno wondered briefly how it was powered. "It goes straight to Círdan. It might take a few minutes, everyone's starting up for the night."

After a few minutes, true to Celegorm's prediction, a wooden creaking sounded, and a square spout of some sort detached from the wall where is was cleverly disguised, and came down right over the bath.

"We have one of the wall-side baths. In the central baths, the water is piped in through detachable pipes and covered faucets in the floor. It's more complicated, but you'll get the hang of it when I show you. Now you yank on the cable to start it, and again when the bath is full, give it a push and it'll go back up." Celegorm suited actions to words, and a rush of steaming water flowed into the bath. It filled fairly quickly, and Celegorm yanked and shoved, and it was perfect and still. A scene from an old woodblock print.

Then Celegorm dusted his hands off, tugged Findecáno's elbow and waved to Niph and Tol, the two host boys having departed at some point to attend to their own tasks.

"See you losers in a little bit!" He called, as Niph made a face from where she was filling the bath still, and dragged Findecáno back to the staff dining hall.

Lunch was a stew, broth thick and hearty, stuffed with beautifully tender vegetables - cabbage, carrots, potatoes, radish - and chunks of tender, perfectly-cooked pork, in rich spices. Findecáno realized that the food he'd eaten here shared the same sort of quality. It was almost _too_ good, or maybe it was that Findecáno's taste buds had suddenly been woken up, or something, because everything tasted so much richer, fuller, _better_. To drink there was water again, and some sort of fruit juice, thick and sweet.

When he had finished, Findecáno felt ridiculously invigorated, not at all slow or sleepy. Celegorm grinned sharply at him.

"Yeah, those losers won't have much to complain about soon enough." He said, again offering no explanation, merely ruffling Findecáno's hair and leading the way back to work. Findecáno went willingly, curious to see more of how this place was run. He was steadily forgetting to be afraid of his situation, mostly because it was so fascinating, how everything worked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're feeling worried about the food, you're right to. :D He is definitely... changing. 
> 
> Tell me what you think! My writing tumblr is [oopsbirdficced](http://oopsbirdficced.tumblr.com/) if you want to check me out, and my regular tumblr is [dreamychaos](http://dreamychaos.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody, I'm back! My laptop is being weird and kind of broken, and for a while my external hard drive wasn't listening to my husband's computer, but we got it to work!

Their guests were already there when they arrived, a faintly familiar feminine laugh floating through the air. Findecáno copied Celegorm in coming around the corner and bowing before stepping down into the bath area. When he looked up, he blinked, startled. The couple before him was the same pair from the elevator. They were being shown in, stools were being pulled out and they were being helped out of the robes that they were wearing, thin cotton dyed bright blue with a goldenrod-yellow flame screen-printed on the back.

Findecáno flushed bright red when he realized that, under the robes, as they would have to be in order to properly take a bath, they were naked. He jerked his head up and stared fixedly at a space just above their heads, face burning. Celegorm shot him a puzzled look, as they stood against the wall just inside the bathing area, and Findecáno shrugged slightly with a helpless look. Celegorm rolled his eyes. Spirits had very _different_ views about nudity, Findecáno decided.

Asa and an unfamiliar woman who Findecáno assumed must be Vanyandessë, were pulling out buckets of plain hot water as the two seated themselves on the proffered stools. Vanyandessë was very pretty, copper-gold springy curls kept away from her vaguely feline face in a ponytail, ears a soft gold with surprising black tufts. Her skin was also golden, and her feet were those of a cat's, melding a human calf into a cat's foot in a way that made his head hurt. She was dressed in soft greens, and he realized, slightly belatedly, that she was very slightly pregnant. And saying something to the guests.

Findecáno tuned himself back in, in time to hear the cat-woman ask their guests what they wanted for their foot scrub and soak. He wondered idly how she knew they wanted one. Was there some sort of checklist? Did the guest fill out paperwork before they got their baths? He filed the question away to ask later.

"I would like a rosewater salt scrub, please." The Lady replied, and Vanyandessë shot a questioning glance at Celegorm. He subtly shook his head, and Vanyandessë turned a slight apologetic smile to the Lady.

“My apologies, it will only be a few minutes while the runners fetch some, I’m afraid we don’t have that stocked.” A delicately clawed hand waved toward the table of bottles, and the Lady covered her mouth apologetically.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to put you out of your way,” she said, and the three spirit workers shot queer glances between each other, not sure what to say. Like they weren’t used to receiving apologies. Findecáno stepped forward and bowed deferentially.

“It’s no trouble, my Lady, we’re here to make your stay as comfortable as possible.” He chirped brightly before tucking himself back beside Celegorm. The older spirits shot him grateful looks as the Lady laughed her pretty laugh.

“Well if that’s the case, I thank you for your service.” She replied, and Findecáno blushed, pleased and embarrassed in equal measures. The Lord was asked the same question, and they had his preferred scrub in stock, something about cypress and lemon, and then Celegorm tugged Findecáno by the elbow, and they trotted off to fetch the scrub for the Lady.

“Quick thinking there,” Celegorm complimented him once they were out of earshot. “Usually we need to stay quiet and unobtrusive, but good work. I can count on one hand the number of times a client’s apologized to me, and have fingers left over, and there’s even less times I’ve been thanked. But anyway, this is how this part works. Usually only one of us will be sent out at a time, in case they need something else while the other’s gone. Since you’re new, I need to show you the ropes, so we’re going to have to make this quick.” Celegorm paused, and Findecáno nodded to indicate that he understood.

“Okay, so we usually only get sent out if they need something from the stores. Rosewater’s been out of fashion for a while, so I didn’t stock it, my mistake. The frogs don’t work the back storehouse, so that’s where we go for special requests. Frogs are stingy,” here he rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. Findecáno giggled, and Celegorm ruffled his hair, as they reached what had to be the back storehouse, and joined a short, fast-moving line. “I’ll introduce you to the storehouse keeper, and then you can take the next errand by yourself, you think you can handle that?” Celegorm asked, and Findecáno thought about the route they had taken, the landmarks, and how fast he could go without disrupting anyone. Once he was done he nodded slowly.

“I think so!” He told the older boy, and pride welled up in him as Celegorm gave him a fond grin. He’d never had an older brother, but he felt like this might be what it felt like. It was nice, not being the super-responsible one for once. The line moved quickly, and soon they were stepping down into a fragrant, slightly dusty darkness. A female spirit a little younger than Celegorm met them and her mouth tugged into a grin at the sight of them.

“Hello, Celegorm. What will you have today?” She asked, in a dry, husky voice. She was really pretty too, with inky hair in tight, tiny, coiling ringlets, tied back into an awesome poof at the back of her head. Her skin was dry looking, the golden brown of the paper of really old books, the kind Mam always told him were made of parchment. Spidery black symbols that looked almost wet, and definitely shiny covered her exposed skin, and he wondered if she was some sort of book or paper spirit, because it looked sort of like writing.

“Hey, Lindëwen. Needed to introduce you to my new minion, Fingon, and we need rosewater salt scrub for the Lady of the Great Greenwood.” He replied, and Lindëwen smiled at him gently.

“Nice to meet you.” Findecáno waved, and her smile deepened, bringing the shadows of dimples to her cheeks.

“And you. Show him how to sign them out, will you, Celegorm? I’ll just go fetch it for you.” She was quickly gone among the shelves, and Celegorm showed Findecáno how to sign out bottles – name, client, and amount in the bottle, which he explained would be filled out by the distributor, and was really only for inventory purposes. Findecáno absorbed the knowledge readily, curious as ever.

“Here we are,” Lindëwen reappeared, wiping a small amount of dust from a bottle with a cloth, and weighed it carefully in the scales next to the logbook, before writing down some numbers and signing her own name. Findecáno wondered if it was really her own name, or one given to her by the Sorcerer. Then they said their goodbyes and were off quickly back to the bath, where Celegorm gave Vanyandessë the bottle, and they tucked themselves back against the wall. Findecáno watched in fascination as the hosts played fun little word games with the clients as they assisted in their bathing.

Celegorm taught him a quiet unobtrusive game played with fingers and subtle motions, and they were given the receipts for the pair’s conditioning treatments for the hair, apparently the last step in the spa process before the soak. Celegorm passed him the receipts with a solemn look, and Findecáno hurried away, determined to do his best. This time it was a longer wait, as the mixtures had to be prepared in the back of the storeroom, as he stood off to the side and Lindëwen assisted others.

A couple other spirits were sent to stand in his line as well but they didn’t talk to him at all. All in all it was a fairly efficient process, an older spirit coming up from the back with his two bottles of formula, as Lindëwen waved him over and signed him out of the storehouse with a nod goodbye and a wink. He hurried back, nearly tripping over someone’s cruelly outstretched leg, but he managed to catch himself with a queer sort of hop skip and an ungainly flap of his elbows. The important part was that he didn’t drop the bottles, and delivered them safely to Asa and Vanyandessë. The clients’ hair was dressed, and wrapped in thin cotton fabric as they finally entered the bath, water tipping over the sides to run down the drains in the floor. Celegorm gave him a firm pat of the shoulder, and he beamed with pride, catching his breath.

The two hosting spirits then entertained the bathing pair by reenacting a part to some sort of play, and it was absolutely fascinating, and Findecáno made a mental note to ask what the play was, and get the rest of the story from Celegorm when they were done.

Soon, or maybe ages later the two rose from their baths, and Vanyandessë and Asa rinsed out their hair, wrapping it in towels as the pair dried off their bodies with soft towels. They soon left, garbed again in the blue robes and white slippers. Asa sighed and slumped to sit in the entryway once they were gone, looking very tired. Vanyandessë did the same, and Celegorm smiled at them.

“Come on, that wasn’t that bad,” he cajoled the pair. “They were super polite, which is weird for royalty.” He remarked, and Findecáno paused in his stretching. He wasn’t used to standing still for so long.

“They were royalty? But you said Lord and Lady, isn’t that nobility?” He asked, and Celegorm grinned.

“Nah. Every kingdom of spirits has their own way of address, and you just have to get familiar with it. I’ll help you out once finish up here, if you’ve the energy.” Findecáno nodded, and Celegorm turned to the other two. “I’m honestly surprised you’re still on duty, Dess. Aren’t you gonna have to stop soon, what with the baby?” Vanyandessë pulled a face, rubbing her feet.

“Yeah, I will. But I’d like to keep going for as long as I can. I don’t like being idle.” She replied, and Celegorm nodded absently. They drained and rinsed the bath, and quickly cleaned up the floor. The bottles were already stocked, so they filled the bath with a number three herbal bath (which smelled a lot like rosemary and some other stuff) and spent ten or so minutes playing a clapping game while Tintastel and Vanyandessë left to go fetch their next pair of clients.

They were tucked neatly against the wall again when Vanyandessë and Asa came back with the King and Queen Under the Mountain. Findecáno wondered which mountain, and how they were the monarchs under said mountain, as opposed to on top of it? Were there a King and Queen Over the Mountain? On the Side of the Mountain?

The King, whose name turned out to be Thorin, was short and broad, with dark, slate-gray skin and eyes like chips of sapphire. He had long black hair and a short black beard, and a thoroughly grouchy expression. His wife seemed to be his polar opposite. She was tiny too, about the same size as the two coal-bearers, though she was soft and plump and curvy. She had beautiful warm brown skin, soft bronze curls haloed around a round, expressive face, and bright hazel eyes. Findecáno couldn’t figure out for the life of him what kind of spirit she was, with her riot of freckles and deep dimples when she smiled, which was often. Her name was Belladonna (but call me Bilbo, that’s such a mouthful), and she was also oddly nice. Thorin seemed to be about what they expected for royalty, taciturn and more interested in his Queen than anything else.

They asked for fairly regular scrubs and treatments, apparently, because they didn’t have to run for anything. Findecáno was sent again for the conditioning blends, so he took the opportunity to ask his most pertinent question of Lindëwen in passing.

“What kind of spirit is the Queen Under the Mountain? If it’s not impolite to ask,” he questioned, and she smiled as she signed him out.

“She’s a mushroom spirit.” Lindëwen replied kindly. “It’s not too impolite, but you were right not to ask in their hearing, some of our clients can be quite touchy. Off you go, now!” She urged, and he skipped back off after thanking her.

The King and Queen ended up listening to a long, complicated ballad over their bath – played by Asa, and sung by both of them – that made Findecáno a little bit bored. Not that the music wasn’t beautiful, but he couldn’t figure out who was who or who was doing what, and it made him a little frustrated, which culminated in him loosing interest.

Not long later they left, escorted by Vanyandessë up to their apartments in the upper floors. Findecáno yawned and stretched, cracking his back, and Celegorm chuckled.

“Agreed. You kept up pretty well during the day, though, Fingon. You need to work on being less fidgety when we’re just standing around, but that’ll come with time.” Celegorm told him. Asa also yawned, bending his fingers back and forth to stretch them out.

“Ugh, I’m so tired. I was gonna go to see if Salgant would teach me the Ballad of the Prince of Eagles, but I think I’m too tired to sit around and learn music.” The osprey complained. Celegorm chuckled.

“Long day. Come on, if we drain and sweep we can grab a bite to eat. Not that dinner’s a very big meal, but still. They don’t make you go to bed on an empty stomach.” He told Findecáno, and that made Findecáno more inclined to get everything done quickly. After that, it was just returning the bottles and tinctures to inventory, which really just involved standing in a long, somewhat slow line, and handing over bottles, waiting while inventory adjustments were logged, and the frogs accused Findecáno of theft. Celegorm glared at them, and they subsided, so he guessed that he wouldn’t actually get in trouble. He hoped. Celegorm seemed really protective of him now that he was ‘in’, and it was actually really nice.

They met back up with Tolmedli, Rhanaur, Asa, and Niphredil for dinner, which was a warm flaky roll filled with chopped sausage and cheese, and a portion of fresh cut fruit with a dollop of honey on top. It gave them all a small extra burst of energy, and Findecáno found himself weirdly restless, even though he was tired. Celegorm seemed to be as well, though Tintastel went right back to the room with Tolmedli, the brown bear spirit ushering the smaller osprey away to the rooms before he keeled over in the hallway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter wasn't too boring - this is where it starts to really diverge. This will be the only chapter like this, and I'll be utilizing some time skips soon.


	9. Chapter 9

“Want to wander around before we go to bed?” Celegorm offered, and Findecáno accepted, as it seemed like Celegorm had something specific in mind. Indeed he did, as they left through another servant’s entrance, one that wasn’t the terrifying staircase, and he tried to lock the way into his mind. They ended up out near where he thought the paddock was, and Celegorm let out a long, shrill whistle that had Findecáno covering his ears. There was barking in the distance, and a pack of six big, lovely dogs bounded up, the largest making a beeline for Celegorm with an adoring look on its canine face.

“Hello Huan, my dearest friend.” Celegorm said, warm and affectionate as he sank to his knees to greet the already very large brown and white patched dog.

“Are these dogs spirits too?” Findecáno asked, and Celegorm shook his head.

“They’re mortal dogs who’ve wandered into the spirit world. They become longer lived, stronger; sometimes they gain the ability to speak. Huan here is close to words, I think.” Celegorm explained, ruffling Huan’s ears. The large dog’s eyes were closed in pleasure and a big dog’s grin was plastered all over his jowled face. Someone else was making their way down the slight rise, red-haired, but too tall to be Asa or Niph, and too short to be Maedhros.

“Should have figured it was you,” the person grumbled, resolving into the lanky figure of a redhead a little younger than Celegorm, with a strong resemblance to the younger two redheads of Findecáno’s acquaintance, with a rack of antlers still dangling strips of bloodied velvet. He wore a green and brown version of their uniform, and had a thick ruff of fur around his neck, as well as weirdly striped fingers.

“Mírdan, how are you, you crosspatch.” Celegrom greeted. “Fingon, this is Asa and Niph’s older brother. Tano, this is Fingon. He’s my new minion.” Findecáno waved to the older boy.

“Why would they give you a minion? You barely do enough work as it is.” Mírdan grumbled, tossing a wave and a nod Findecáno’s way.

“I do too, I’m not a slacker you bum.” Celegorm bit back, and the two older boys settled in to gripe about work and swap stories of things that had happened during the day. Findecáno was perfectly content to just play with the dogs and be ignored, though it was clear by the way Huan settled next to Celegorm and rested his huge head in the boy’s lap for ear skritches that he would not be joining in the playing. Findecáno ended up drifting off pillowed against one dog’s warm, furry side, and had to be poked awake by Celegorm to trudge back up to the bathhouse, lay out his bedding, and fall over into it, sound asleep.

The days passed in a similar fashion, until a full two weeks had passed. Findecáno had settled in fairly well, and only the frogs and a few of the women spoke of eating him now. Whenever he started to slide into Fingon too much Maedhros would somehow _know_ , and come and pull him out of it. He made a couple more trips down to the goat pens, but it always frustrated him to see them like that, and him unable to help them yet.

The day was approaching, and everyone was tired, but somehow also ridiculously cheerful. Findecáno frowned around, and then Tolmedli burst into the room, positively _beaming_.

“She agreed! She said yes!” He yelled at them, all and sundry. They all stared at him blankly, and it was Asa who made the connection first.

“You mean Gwaeleth? She agreed to your offer of courtship?” He guessed, and Tol could only nod around his beaming grin. It honestly looked kind of painful, to smile that widely. Rhanaur entered the room then, rolling their eyes affectionately. Clearly they’d followed their brother at a slower pace, as Tolmedli was breathing heavily, as though he’d run up to the dormitory.

“Yes, and we’re all breathing a sigh of relief,” Rhanaur put in, gently sarcastic but genuinely pleased as well. Tolmedli jabbed his sibling in the ribs, and Rhanaur merely gave him a gimlet eye. “It’s true, and you know it. You’re just lucky nobody among us is more gambling-minded, or we’d have been placing bets.” They informed Tol tartly. Tol sighed in a slightly wistful manner, and Tintastel looked moderately crestfallen at the missed opportunity, before turning a slightly speculative eye at Celegorm. Celegorm shot him a glare, and turned back to Tol.

“That’s great. Niph will probably be happy. You’ve been annoying her for three freakin’ years now.” He grumbled, but he offered his congratulations all the same. Everyone did, though the boy’s dormitory was small to begin with. Tintastel bounced back remarkably quickly – though that was really just how he was.

“I know just what to do!” He chirruped excitedly. Everyone looked at him questioningly. “Our day off is the day after tomorrow!” This was news to Findecáno, and he cast a questioning glance at Celegorm, who smiled wryly back. He’d likely forgotten to mention it, then. It did explain the anticipatory air of the other workers, though. “I'll talk to Pa and Ma and Da, and we can all go down to their house by the lake! I bet they'd make it a big celebration!” Asa chirped excitedly. Everyone looked to Tolmedli expectantly. It was his decision, after all.

“That sounds just about perfect, Asa,” the bear said warmly, and Asa leapt to his feet, all tiredness forgotten.

“I'll go tell them right now!” He chirped happily, making for the door. Celegorm collared him before he made it, ignoring the younger boy’s indignant squawk.

“Not alone you ain't.” He said, and hauled the boy over his shoulder. “I'll take you. You want to come, say hi to Mírdan, Fingon?” he asked, and Findecáno nodded eagerly, following the other two out.

“You know my big brother?” Asa chirped, having been put on his feet again.

“Yeah, sometimes when me and Celegorm go out to visit the dogs, he shows up too. We get days off?” Findecáno replied cheerfully. Asa’s smile dimmed slightly.

“Yeah, Tano has insomnia. Sometimes it's pretty bad. The garden staff’s schedule is swapped from the bathhouse staff’s so I don't get to see him much. And yeah, every two weeks we close the baths and the staff gets a day off. Hey, Celegorm, did you hear?” Asa tugged Findecáno a little faster by the hand, free hand reaching to snag Celegorm’s tunic. “Big brother is courting someone! Like, an actual person!” Celegorm actually slowed down at that, looking incredulous.

“You're joking.” He said flatly. Asa shook his head enthusiastically.

“No, he is!” The osprey insisted. “Maybe we can get him to bring him to the party?” Asa muses aloud. Celegorm looked amused.

“We should try for it “ he said, a wicked smirk curling the corners of his mouth. “Stupid forest pony didn't even tell me, the idiot.” He grumbled, and Findecáno and Tintastel giggled at his expense. Findecáno watched as they went through the bathhouse, shutting down for the morning. They weren't going for Círdan’s stairway, rather a better-trafficked route through a couple side gardens. Soon they popped out into a gently-rolling chilled area. Findecáno could smell the faint scent of water.

“Where do your parents live?” He whispered to Asa, holding a little tighter to the osprey’s hand. Asa smiled at him brightly, tugging him into a run.

“They're actually my grandparents, and just up the hill, come on!” He cried, and Findecáno laughed at the other boy’s ridiculous cheer, stumbling after him. After the hill leveled out, it dipped into a little valley, where there was a massive lake, and a sprawling house by the waterside. There was another cottage not far away from what had to be the main house, and a dock with a little sailboat sitting at the end of it poking out into the water. It was idyllic, peaceful, beautiful.

“Wow, you live there?” Findecáno gasped. Asa nodded, before tugging him back into a run, this time down the hill. Findecáno tripped, and before he knew it, he and Asa were _rolling_ down the hill, laughing and shrieking, bumping to a stop in front of someone’s legs. The man they'd run into was laughing, and helped them to their feet.

“Careful, little nephew.” He advised, and Asa grinned up at him.

“Thanks Aerandir.” He said adoringly. Findecáno looked him over quickly. The man was older than Celegorm, maybe nebulously in his twenties, which seemed to be where a lot of spirits just sort of stopped. Unless they were super old. His hair was a flyaway mess of sea-green curls, tied at the nape of his neck, and the color was natural, because his eyebrows were the same shade. His skin was a lighter olive-brown, flecked with bright green scales like freckles. Something about the shape of his face was familiar, and Findecáno couldn't figure out what. It was in the shape of the claws, the sharp teeth and the dark green, nearly black eyes.

“No worries. What are you doing down here on a work night, though kiddo?” The older man asked, waving at Celegorm as he finally caught up, and turning to lead them into the main house.

“We wanna have a party!” Asa chirped with irrepressible cheer. Aerandir smiled down at him fondly.

“What's the occasion? Is it for your new friend?” He asked, waving a hand at Findecáno.

“No, Tolmedli finally asked to court Gwaeleth!” Asa chirped, bouncing as he walked. He turned to Findecáno, face worried. “Not that I don't like you, or anything,” he grabbed both of Findecáno’s hands, and he laughed, squeezing Asa’s hands back.

“Dont worry! I know.” He replied, and Aerandir made a noise that could probably be classified as cooing. They entered the house and it was just as lovely and slightly ramshackle inside as out. A pair of redheads were talking in the doorway of what looked like the kitchen, and Asa laughed gleefully, abandoning Findecáno to throw himself at the taller, broader one. The man laughed, hauling Asa up into his arms.

“Tintastel, what an unexpected visit!” He said happily. Asa chirped, hugging the man’s shoulders with his skinny, feathered arms. The other redhead wandered over, and Findecáno was pleased to recognize Mírdan.

“Hey, Celeg. Hey, Fingon.” The elk spirit said laconically, and they returned the greeting. Celegorm went on to ribbing Mírdan about his love life, and Findecáno eagerly turned his attention to the newest person. The man was tall and broad, and looked around the same age as Aerandir, which really didn't tell him much. He sort of looked like he was the trio’s father, which sort of made sense and sort of didn't? Considering Asa had mentioned three parents but then later said they were his grandparents. Then again, Aerandir didn't look anything like any of the redheads. But anyway.

The new man’s hands looked like they were made of bright copper, and it thinned out into a tracery like veins winding up his arms and shoulders under his shirt, and popping up above his collar to trace the same way up his neck and across his face, into the soft red hair. There were bits of copper in his hair, too, or maybe they were just highlights. Three more people entered at that point, and Findecáno was feeling a little overwhelmed, a little out-of-place, and a lot heartsick for his own family. He shrank into Celegorm’s side, clutching a handful of the older boy’s pants to anchor himself. Celegorm set a comforting hand on his head, messing up his straight, dark hair.

Findecáno realized he recognized one of the newcomers, even as Asa wiggled out of the redhead’s arms and flung himself at the trio. The woman knelt to catch him, cuddling him close to her ample chest, the feathers that created two crests on either side of her face raising and fanning. Her hair was long, feathery, and white, tipped with black, and her skin was pale, with dark freckles, a sunburn across the tops of her shoulders and cheeks.

One of the men was Círdan, and Findecáno suddenly realized why Aerandir looked familiar. He had the same facial structure as Círdan, mixed with the eye-shape of the woman. He had gotten Círdan’s skin color, too, the smooth olive brown, but the woman’s freckling. The third was another man, shorter than Círdan, but broader, with shirt, wild grey hair, skin color faintly blue, with the same sort of scaly shine as Maedhros, iridescent grey and blue instead of sunset-colored. His skin was also covered with bright silver markings that looked like webs of lightning. Findecáno had seen a picture of a man who had gotten struck by lightning once, in one of Da’s nature magazines, and the markings looked the same. He also had a _tail_ , scaled and heavily muscled, and heavy black horns curved back along his skull. The claws and fangs were practically expected by now, and didn't surprise Findecáno at all. This man looked like he could be related to the trio, especially Mírdan.

“Fingon! I know you know Da,” Asa waved at Círdan, who winked at Findecáno. Asa bounced over dragging Findecáno away from the relative safety of Celegorm’s side to meet the three strangers. “Like I said, that's my uncle Aerandir, this is my uncle Rog,” here the redhead waved metallic fingers, “this is Ma, Aerlinn,” the woman smiled at him sweetly, and she had regular teeth, which seemed actually kinda weird. “And Pa, Gaurandir!” Asa finished, and the grey man smiled down at him. Findecáno felt uncharacteristically shy as he bowed politely to them.

“I'm Fingon, nice to meet you,” He said softly, clinging worriedly to Asa’s hand.

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” Gaurandir replied, and his voice was like distant thunder. “Cub, what are you doing down here? Don't you have work in the evening?” He asked, frowning slightly. Asa nodded, biting his lip a little self-consciously.

“Yeah, but, Tolmedli finally asked Gwaeleth out, and Fingon’s here and hasn't been properly welcomed, and I thought we could have a party! I mean, if you were okay with it.” Asa whirled and pointed to Mírdan. “And big brother’s courting someone too, and can we please have a party papa?” Asa’s grey eyes went large and liquid, his lower lip pouting out just a little, and Findecáno recognized that face. Asa was surprisingly manipulative. Gaurandir laughed, large and loud. Aerlinn chuckled too, catching Asa’s free hand and drawing him close again. Findecáno tried to let go of Asa’s hand before he got inadvertently hugged too, but Asa’s hold was firm. He was folded up into her arms as well, and after a moment of uncertain stiffness, he melted into her firm grip, tears beading in his eyes as he thought of Mam.

“Of course we can have a party, sweet chick.” she said warmly, squeezing gently before releasing them. “Right, Círdan, Gaurandir?” Warm green eyes looked up at the men expectantly, and both of them gained warm smiles.

“I don't have a problem with it. It's my day off too, after all. I'll cook.” Círdan said decisively. Gaurandir laughed again, his face creasing in well-worn laugh lines. Maybe he wasn't so scary after all.

“Who am I to say no, then?” Gaurandir said brightly, before pointing one black claw at Mírdan who looked, no pun intended, like a deer in the headlights. “You better bring that boy you're sweet on, and no excuses!” He declared loudly, and Mírdan scowled, relaxing and rolling his eyes.

“Fine,” the teenager acquiesced, and they spent a few more minutes talking loudly all over each other, before Aerlinn clapped her hands with a smile. Silence fell, and Findecáno looked around, marveling. Had that been magic?

“Thats settled then, and you boys have work tonight! Best hurry back, sunrise is soon! We'll see you the day after tomorrow, say, an hour before sunset.” They all clamored their agreement, and soon the three of them were all strolling back to the bathhouse, Mírdan alongside them. The deer spirit was going to go invite his boyfriend. Findecáno took a deep, cleansing breath, mind still lingering on his mother and his family's fate. He tuned in to Celegorm and Mírdan’s conversation.

“...and one of the new goats was on top of the damn shed, I swear. I don't even know how he got up there.” The redhead was telling the amused strawberry-blond.

“New goats?” Celegorm asked, laughing. “Also, that would only happen to you, damn.” Mírdan rolled his eyes and smacked Celegorm’s arm.

“You're an ass. And yeah, we got four new goats, like, two weeks ago, where have you been? I swear you only listen to half of what I say. The Boss said to keep a close eye on them for whatever reason.” Mírdan replied, and some tight knot in Findecáno’s chest loosened slightly. Mírdan was looking after his family. That was good. Findecáno sighed, and then yawned.

“Here we are,” Celegorm noted, and they parted ways with Mírdan and headed off to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late, other things were happening, as I'm sure you can tell. Also, can't have Celegorm without Huan, so here he is!!! And Celegorm isn't actually a slacker, everyone just likes ragging on him. :)
> 
> So! I thought it might be nice to have a bit of a guide to my cast of a million OCs, so here you go!
> 
> Tintastel: first appeared in chapter 6, he's an entertainer at the bathhouse. He's about Findecáno's age, 12, an osprey spirit.
> 
> Niphredil: first apprered in chapter 6, she's a bath worker. About 10, a red badger spirit.
> 
> Tolmedli: first appeared in chapter 6, he's a bath worker. In his upper teens, a brown bear spirit.
> 
> Rhanaur: first appeared in chapter 7, they're an entertainer at the bathhouse. Mid-teens, agendered, a snake spirit.
> 
> Vanyandessë: appeared first in chapter 8, she's an entertainer at the bathhouse. Mid- to late-twenties, pregnant, a lynx spirit.
> 
> Lindëwen: not really an oc, she's Curufinwë's nameless canon wife that he had to have had because Celebrimbor exists, thanks Tolkien. First appeared in chapter 8, she works the bathhouse storerooms. Early teens, a paper/book spirit.
> 
> Mírdan: first appeared in chapter 9, he works the gardens of the bathhouse. Mid-teens, an elk spirit. Older brother of Asa and Niph.
> 
> Aerandir: first appeared in chapter 9, he doesn't seem to work at the bathhouse. Mid- to late-twenties, sea serpent spirit. Uncle of Tano, Asa, and Niph.
> 
> Aerlinn: first appeared in chapter 9, she doesn't seem to work at the bathhouse. Unknown age, albatross spirit. Grandmother of the redheaded trio, mother of Aerandir.
> 
> Gaurandir: first appeared in chapter 9, he doesn't seem to work at the bathhouse. Unknown age, storm/dragon spirit. Grandfather of the redheaded trio.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I HAVE ART GO LOVE ON IT!!!!](http://icepick-art.tumblr.com/post/148244752686/illustration-for-oopsbirdficced-s)
> 
> This chapter brought to you by a party!!! If you're picturing a slightly scaled-down version of Bilbo's birthday party, you're picturing it right!!!
> 
> Also brought to you by costume porn, food porn, and gratuitous description. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> Tiiiiiny bit of plot. Tiny.

The next day was filled with eager anticipation for the party and their day off. Findecáno had an especially hard time keeping still when he needed to. He managed to make Celegorm rather irritated with him, but Asa was the same, and even Niphredil was excited. Findecáno had trouble getting to sleep, so he slipped out to visit his family.

“Hi!” He cried breathlessly as he skidded to a stop by the goat pens, draping himself half-over the fence. “Írissë, Turucáno, da, mam, I'm going to go to a party!” he said excitedly, and proceeded to hop the fence and fill them in on the past couple of days, cuddling his two baby siblings, furry or not.

(He never noticed Mírdan approach, looking mildly confused. The older boy listened in, face running a gamut of emotions - confusion, shock, horror, guilt, and finally resolve.)

A half-hour later he bid his family goodbye, racing through the gardens back to the bathhouse. He was almost to the bridge when he ran straight into a person. Strong, slim arms wrapped around him, and the fresh scent of bubbling river water overtook his nose, giving him a strange sense of déjà vu. He looked up, and found himself staring into Maedhros’s warm green eyes.

“Maedhros!” He cheered, throwing his arms around the older boy’s neck. Maedhros chuckled, briefly tucking his nose into the crook of Findecáno’s neck.

“Excited for the party?” Maedhros asked, still curled around Findecáno. The younger boy pouted up at him.

“How’d you already know?” He asked curiously. Maedhros winked and tapped Findecáno’s nose, making him wrinkle it, startled.

“Rumors go fast here.” He explained. Findecáno shrugged, snuggling into Maedhros’s shoulder. The older boy didn't protest, holding him close as well. Findecáno breathed in, and was hit with an odd wave of nostalgia, a memory he could only half-recall, cold water and a bright red ball. Maedhros squeezed and released him, and Findecáno shook his head, memory passing from his mind. “You should go back and sleep, dear cygnet.” Maedhros said warmly, and Findecáno rolled his eyes just a little, nodding.

“I know. I was going when I ran into you.” He explained, and the redhead nodded.

“Before you go, I've a gift,” the redhead pulled away, getting out a soft package wrapped in brown paper and tied in twine, pressing it into his hands. “Party clothes for you. Off you go, then,” he urged, and before Findecáno really thought about it he pulled himself to his tiptoes, tugged Maedhros’s shoulder down, and kissed the older boy’s cheek softly and gratefully. He squeaked faintly, suddenly embarrassed, and ran for it, not looking back. If he had, he might have seen Maedhros looking after him with a slightly lost expression, fingers tracing his cheek, as though to keep the warmth of the touch in his skin.

Findecáno, despite the excitement, slept like a log when he got back, tucking the package beside his pillow with a possessive finger hooked through the string. His dreams were murky and slow, a faint voice calling out to him, telling him something important that he couldn't quite hear. He woke groggily as the first rays of sunset were streaking across the sky and has a brief moment of panic, before remembering the day off. He sat up, and Asa, who had bedded down beside him, looked up from where he sat on his pallet with a wide grin.

“You're up!” He chirped delightedly, hugging him enthusiastically. “We're just waiting on Celegorm, then, and we can go!” Findecáno smiled sleepily, yawning and rubbing the sleep-grit from his eyes. The osprey’s outfit was different than usual, fancier and of a different cut. A red long, sleeveless tunic with warm gold and yellow embroidery depicting bright sprays of flowers. The tunic was belted with a wide, gold-colored sash, over a pair of soft brown leggings. A pair of soft brown leather boots lay at the end of his pallet, waiting. He looked around, and of the couple of people he knew were going, they all wore variations on the same thing.

Rhanaur was already there, braiding their long brown hair, and Tolmedli was sleepily rubbing at his eyes. The cut of Rhanaur’s rich brown tunic was a little more feminine than Tolmedli’s dark, forest green, their embroidery done in pale, raw-silk white, patterns of falling petals, Tol’s done in a subtly darker shade of green that barely showed up, but was visually stunning as a whole, shifting, shadowy leaves. Tol wore loose brown pants, and Rhanaur cream-colored leggings. He stretched, calling a soft good morning, before turning toward the package he’d been given.

“What’s that?” Asa asked, looking excited. Findecáno remembered what Maedhros had told him.

“My party clothes.” He said, and Asa looked suitably impressed.

“When did you get a chance to order them or pick them up? Go on, open it!” Asa urged, feathers fluffing and smoothing in anticipation. “I had thought I'd lend you some of mine, but this is much better.” He said, and Findecáno was pleased by the thought that Asa would have made sure he wasn't the only one stuck in the bathhouse uniform at the celebration. He untied the rough bow and folded away the brown paper neatly, and gasped. Neatly folded on his lap was a long-sleeved, long tunic of pale blue with delicate embroidery in several shades, pink lotus flowers on green lily pads, and a single black swan, serene in his kingdom. Asa cooed, smoothing a delicate finger over the embroidery. “Wow, where did you get this?” He asked, eyes wide.

“It was a present.” Findecáno said softly, lifting it out and giving it a little shake to loose the folds. Under it was a black sash, bright blue leggings, soft-soled black leather boots, and a black garment. He carefully set aside the tunic to pick up the black thing. Upon closer inspection, it was a kind of long, open-fronted vest-type thing that Asa confidently informed him was an over robe, though one without sleeves. He noticed that Rhanaur had a similar garment neatly folded beside them, only in a rich brown to match their tunic, and with sleeves. Then again, they were a snake spirit, they always wore sleeves to fend off any hint of chill. They even wore a tight, sleeved shirt under their work clothes.

“Wow, Fingon, who gave you these? Try them on, let’s see them!” Asa urged, and a faint grumble came from the adjoining pallet, as Celegorm rolled into his back.

“D’ya have to be so loud,” he growled, before sitting up, strawberry-blond hair spilling over his shoulders. Asa laughed brightly.

“It got you up, grumpy!” He said, and Findecáno stood, escaping to the washroom to take care of his morning business and change. The clothes fit well, only slightly on the large side, and Findecáno wondered if Maedhros had made them or had them made. He came back out, and Asa cheered, before reaching over to retie his sash into a neater knot that fell more nicely.

“Asa,” he grumbled, flushing slightly. Asa just grinned up at him, before leaning forward and kissing his cheek. Findecáno spluttered amid the chuckles from Rhanaur and Tolmedli, and the wolf-whistle from Celegorm, before the older teen took his own turn in the washroom. Luckily the question of who had given Findecáno the clothes was dropped, as Rhanaur and Asa began rummaging through a cupboard Findecáno couldn't remember ever being opened. He leaned over, curious.

“They're getting us party lanterns,” he jumped, and Tol set a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Easy, Fingon, didn't mean to scare you.” The placid bear spirit said. Findecáno smiled up at him, still a little embarrassed.

“Just surprised me, that’s all,” he asserted, and then hugged the stout older teen around the middle. The gentle boy laughed, hugging him back.

“What’s this about?” He asked, warm black eyes glittering with genial amusement. Findecáno grinned back up at him, releasing him.

“Congratulations,” he said simply, watching the soppy look overtake Tolmedli’s expression again. He realized with a sudden, unhappy lurch that he'd miss these people when he left. He was jerked from his unhappy thoughts when a rough hand landed on his head and missed his hair. He shoved Celegorm away on reflex now, pouting up at the older boy. “Do you have to do that all the time?” He complained, and Celegorm just barked a laugh, putting decorative silver horn-caps on his horns. The older boy was dressed in sleeveless pale grey, embroidery done in stark black of a pack of running dogs, with a startlingly red sash and rusty red loose pants. It suited him, as did the high tail he put his hair up into. Tintastel let out a small, happy, noise, and skipped over in his stocking-feet, bearing a bundle of short carved wooden sticks with colored glass lamps hanging from them.

“Here you go, Fingon, you should have blue! And Tolmedli, here's green for you!” He distributed the lanterns, Rhanaur following with fat short candles and a lit taper, supplying them each with light. They left the dormitory chattering excitedly, trailing bobbing, jewel-bright lights, one blue, one green, two red, one gold, and carrying their boots. They met Gwaeleth, Niphredil, and Lindëwen near the girl’s dormitory each just as richly dressed. Findecáno smiled when Tolmedli offered his arm to Gwaeleth, clad in a shimmering, flowing green dress that reached her ankles, deep brown embroidery picked out through the waist and down the skirt of butterflies and hummingbirds visiting flowers. Her lantern was bright green too, and the boots she held in her hand were brown.

Niphredil was in a soft, pretty shade of pink that didn't go with her hair at all, her dress knee-length and purple leggings underneath. Her embroidery was of dragonflies flitting across a lily pond, expertly picked out in purple and blue, and her lantern was purple. Lindëwen wore soft, pale gold that set off her soft brown skin, picked out with blurred lines of black like script, fading down through her dress from the waistline to the hem, kind of like someone had tried to replicate water spilled on ink and then blotted away. Her lantern was golden-yellow.

They all went down to the servant’s exit nearest the house in an excited, chattering group, and there happened upon Mírdan, and the person who had to be the aforementioned boyfriend. Mírdan wore a wraparound tunic, in deference to the cleaned-up antlers on his head. His tunic was a soft, summer-sky blue, with draping, white sprays of flowers, like colorless wisteria for the embroidery. His sash was white, as were his leggings, and his lantern was incongruously red. The boyfriend gave Findecáno’s chest an uncomfortable lurch. It was Fëanáro’s secretary, clad in black and red. His tunic was black, and white stars were picked out neatly in the fabric, creating familiar constellations. His sash was a very deep red, as was his long-sleeved over robe, and his legs were clad in black leggings. His lantern matched Mírdan’s a bright, ruby red, and Findecáno supposed that could be why the deer spirit had picked it.

“Mírdan!” Celegorm crowed, striding over to affectionately bash one of his horns against the deer’s antlers. Mírdan butted back, but Celegorm slipped away, taking up the secretary’s hand and laying a kiss on his knuckles. Mírdan made a grumpy snorting noise. “Just let me know when this dumb deer gets too be too much, and I'll knock some sense into him, alright, sweetheart?” The secretary sighed, cheeks flushed a jewel-bright ruby, extracting his hand, fluttering it in purposeful motions. Celegorm could evidently tell what the secretary was trying to say, as he reeled back dramatically, clutching his chest. “You wound me, good sir!”

“Back off, idiot.” Mírdan said grumpily. “Everybody, this is Caranthir, we're courting.” He then went and opened the door as Caranthir waved, slightly awkwardly. Findecáno leaned over to Asa as they did the awkward procession of getting someone else to hold their lantern as they pulled on their boots.

“Hey, what did Caranthir say? I can't understand the, um,” he awkwardly wiggled his fingers, unsure what to call it. Asa giggled.

“It’s signed language. He was calling Celeg a witless dog, I think. Usually it's done with two hands, I think he was short forming a couple of the words.” Asa explained. Findecáno extracted a promise that the osprey would translate for him, and then they were handing off their lanterns and pulling on their boots. They crossed the bridge, and Findecáno noted that the shadowy, long black, masked spirit was gone, even though it had been there every time Findecáno had crossed the bridge, slowly creeping closer. He idly hoped it wasn't a guest after all, finally making it to the bathhouse only for the baths to be closed.

On the other side of the bridge they met up with three more deer spirits, friends of Mírdan’s from the gardens. They were reindeer, apparently, which meant that the woman had a beautiful rack of antlers too. They were introduced as Lómiel, the woman, and Denethor and Pityaruvo, the men. All three sported antlers, the strange stripe along their fingers, like Mírdan, and a thick ruff of brown fur around their neck and shoulders.

Lómiel was tall and lovely, with long golden-blond hair, dark brown eyes, and lightly freckled white skin. Denethor was equally tall, skin a rich, dark ochre-brown and eyes deep black, hair a shocking white, braided tightly against his skull, around his antlers. Pityaruvo was short and broad, hair a thick, untidy thatch of brown curls shot through with glimmery strands of bronze and silver. His eyes were patched blue and green, and his skin a tanned-bronze white. They all carried orange lanterns and wore sunset golden-orange embroidered with crimson falling leaves, paired with satiny dark black.

They set off across the soft, rolling grass, jubilant and loud. The house, when they crested the hill, looked positively transformed, lit with colorful hanging lanterns, tressle tables up on the grass between the main house and the little cabin. Findecáno slipped his hand into Tintastel’s, a little overwhelmed again. Asa was perfectly happy to drag him to the central pole, where they hung up their lanterns before heading over to the table that was piled with food, next to a long, gravel-edged coal pit. Rog and Aerandir were manning the odd grill, turning skewers of meat, vegetables, and chunked pineapple and peaches. The two older men were dressed in brown and green, patterns of white, splashing waves stitched onto their tunics, protected by heavy canvas aprons.

“Hello, Asa, Fingon,” they greeted pleasantly, Rog bringing over some just-finished skewers. Asa chirped back a greeting, before he picked up a plate from the stack. Findecáno did as well, wondering aloud where to start.

“I'm starting with fruit, just remember that we have all night, so don't overdo it.” Asa opined brightly, piling some succulent grilled pineapple and peaches on his plate, drizzling them with honey. That seemed pretty reasonable, and Findecáno followed suit, also taking a bit of chunky green glop that Asa said was mostly avocado, with some flatbread wedges. He followed Asa to sit at the tables, tucking in enthusiastically.

The evening passed with positively ludicrous amounts of food and drink, all of it fantastically delicious. In addition to the grilled delicacies, there was fresh-baked bread and flatbread, an enormous fresh salad with a spicy vinaigrette, and sliced cheeses with salty olives, salty cured meats, and buttery crackers. Drinks included mead and cider for the older crowd, and three kinds of juice for the kids, along with water.

The desserts had their own table. There were peach, cherry, and strawberry-rhubarb pies with light, flaky crusts and lattice tops. In addition to the pies, there were little individual chocolate cakes with thick cherry or strawberry icing and a piece of corresponding fruit on top.

They played tag and hide-and-seek between eating, and Gaurandir told them an epic, harrowing story about warriors, wolves, and a princess rescuing her beloved against her father's wishes. As the night wore on, instruments were brought out, and everyone danced, Tintastel, Niphredil, and Findecáno all joining in a circle dance the two redheads taught him.

Findecáno and the younger two redheads were falling asleep curled up together on the soft grass as the party wrapped up about two hours before dawn, completely worn out. He could dimly hear the older kids talking, Celegorm teasing Mírdan and Caranthir, Mírdan responding ascerbically and gaps in the conversation that must have been Caranthir’s contributions.

Presently someone picked Findecáno up, Celegorm’s gruff voice suddenly much closer, and movement. He was carrying him back up to the bathhouse.

“Th’nks, Celeg. You're nicer th’n you pr’tend to be,” Findecáno said sleepily into the older boy’s tunic, hand curling loosely in the fabric as he cuddled closer. Celegorm made a soft scoffing noise, but Tolmedli’s rolling bass laugh cut through anything he might have said.

“He’s got you pinned, softy.” Tol said, followed by Rhanaur’s soft laughter. Celegorm grumbled quietly, but hoisted Findecáno a little closer.

“He’s a decent kid,” the fire spirit admitted, sounding as though it pained him greatly to admit it.

The older boys briefly woke the younger two to wash their faces and teeth, brush their hair, and change into sleeping clothes before they were put to bed to sleep off the excitement and the food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, next chapter should bring us back to your regularly scheduled plot. Anyway, new characters! Cause y'all wanted that the way you want a hole in your head, yeah? :D
> 
> Lómiel & Pityaruvo work in the bathhouse gardens, friends of Mírdan's, reindeer spirits


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this chapter contains grossness and slime, and Fëanáro being intimidating.

The days slipped back into routine, sliding past in a blur of warm, steamy nights spent hard at work. After a week it began to rain, and kept raining for a solid four days. It meant they were actually even busier, oddly enough, partly due to needing to clean more due to the wet and the mud, and partly because the customer load seemed to double. Celegorm got grumpier, as did Niph, Tolmedli and Rhanaur got stressed, and Tintastel and Gwaeleth were drooping from their perpetual cheer. Gwaeleth was even molting a little, and Tol collected the little brown, white, and iridescent green feathers the ruby-throated hummingbird spirit dropped.

Findecáno himself had developed an itchy, bumpy rash that ran down the length of his spine, and weirdly enough behind his ears and across the bridge of his nose. He’d scratched his nose open and bleeding before Celegorm caught him at it, slapping a bandage across the bloody scratch and getting Asa to give him a soothing balm. He’d called them growing pains, which had confused Findecáno a bit. He _was_ having growing pains, the persistent ache through his bones and joints that heralded another growth spurt, but the rash was probably just stress. Tintastel had been talking to him a lot about how the other boy cared for his feathers, which was weird.

The heavy, overcast skies also made it harder to tell what the time was, which meant they were in a perpetual state of scrambling to get the cleaning done before they needed to tend to the guests. Findecáno slid a door open to dump out used water, and found himself face to face with a familiar mask. His heart jumped in his chest, but he managed to not show it too badly. He bowed as well as he could from where he knelt on the raised floor.

“Are you okay, Sir? It's raining, do you want to come in?” He asked politely. The masked spirit did not respond.

“Hey, come on, Fingon, hurry up!” Celegorm yelled impatiently.

“Please excuse me, Sir. I'll just leave the door open for you,” Findecáno murmured, before bowing again, taking up his bucket and pattering off.

They had just finished up with their first guest, and Findecáno was running to get more rosewater, as they’d actually run out, when he noticed the commotion running through the bathhouse staff. Half of the toads were missing, and most of the remaining staff seemed to be hiding in their bathing rooms, peering out and whispering nervously.

A hard, taloned hand grabbed his upper arm and he was suddenly jerked around in the opposite direction from where he had been heading. He whipped his head around to yell at the person, but his words died in his throat. Fëanáro was the one who had grabbed him. He caught a glimpse of a sympathetic face from one of the bathing rooms and realized that they'd been hiding from the Sorcerer, and he'd been unlucky enough to _not_. He was forced to almost run to keep up with the Sorcerer, who looked down at him briefly, surprise registering in his face for a split second when the man realized who he’d grabbed, before he began to speak in a low, fast voice.

“There’s a stink spirit coming, it won't be dissuaded, so we're preparing for its arrival. Who is your assigned partner?” Fëanáro asked, brisk and businesslike. Findecáno shoved the small, scared part of himself down and tried to be equally professional. Fëanáro was leading him somewhere, far to the back of the bathhouse floor where the toads usually worked.

“C-Celegorm, sir,” he hated the stutter that forced its way out, hated the weakness it implied. Fëanáro scared him, even now. The Sorcerer paused, just a second of stillness, a queer look passing over his face.

“I will have him sent over. The bath needs to be prepared, we were not anticipating needing to use it tonight. There are cleaning supplies there already, you have half an hour to prepare, possibly less.” Fëanáro informed him. “I will come collect you when our ‘guest’ arrives,” he finished, before leaving Findecáno at the entrance to the biggest bathing room he'd ever seen in the entire bathhouse. It was dirty, dried grass strewn all over the floor, inexplicably. Findecáno took a deep, shaky breath before grabbing a broom and starting. A couple minutes later the air was torn with some vitriolic swearing as Celegorm arrived, setting to work alongside him, followed unexpectedly by a mildly grim-looking Niphredil and Tolmedli. They worked in fast silence, cleaning up the floors before all of them dropped into the bath and _scrubbed_ . It took the four of them a good ten minutes and a lot of swearing about lazy frogs who didn't do their damn _jobs_ , before it started looking presentable. Celegorm boosted Findecáno out of the huge tub with instructions to get them a bath tag, while they finished scrubbing.

Findecáno ran flat out to the foreman’s stand, only to find it completely deserted. The foreman had fled the approaching stink spirit, and Findecáno used a couple of choice swear words he’d learned from Mírdan and Celegorm. He tried to find a way in, but the little booth was locked up, and tall enough that he couldn't climb it. He turned and paced a distance away, maybe a running start would help. He turned back around, ready to run at the wooden edifice, and stumbled when he saw the masked spirit there beside the booth. He automatically bowed, and the spirit made a strange cooing noise. He looked up, and a bath tag was floating down from the booth. Surprised, Findecáno caught it, and then bowed again, grinning brightly and clutching the tag to his chest.

“Thank you very much, Sir, you've done me a huge favor! You should really get going, though, there's a stink spirit coming. Please excuse me!” Findecáno bobbed another bow and raced back to the bath, where Niphredil and Tolmedli had already left. Celegorm grabbed the tag Findecáno had been given, remarking that it was rather good, and they filled the bath. Then Celegorm darted to the door.

“Where're you going?” Findecáno asked nervously.

“I'm going to go talk to Círdan about more water - I have a feeling we're going to need it. Just stay on your toes and be respectful, and you'll be okay,” the older teen assured him, before racing off out of sight. Findecáno stared helplessly after him, before another cooing noise made him just about jump out of his skin. He whirled around. The masked spirit stood in the corner, and approached as Findecáno watched. It gave him the chills, but he valiantly bowed politely.

“Thank you very much for your help a moment ago,” he murmured again, and looked up when something moved at the edge of his vision. He looked up, and saw that two arms had emerged from the cloak. They were the same color, the strangely transparent black, and the hair stood up on the back of Findecáno’s neck. It was an offering pose, and as he watched, the spirit’s thin hands filled with red-lacquered bath tags. Findecáno took a step back. The spirit offered them with an insistent coo. Findecáno shook his head.

“I- I only needed one. I'm grateful, but you should put those back, okay?” He said, getting the first inkling of doubt that this was a guest at all. The spirit thrust them at him again. He shook his head again and took another step back. “No, thank you. I don't need them.” He repeated softly. The spirit made a dejected-sounding sigh and vanished, sending the lacquered tags clattering to the floor. For lack of a better thing to do with them, Findecáno gathered them into his bucket, deciding to take them back to the foreman’s booth later.

“Come with me, boy.” Findecáno straightened like he'd touched a live wire, a shiver of fear chasing down his spine as he obediently followed Fëanáro out to the front. He wished beyond hope that Celegorm had gotten done earlier with Círdan, he didn't want to do this alone. They proceeded out to the front, and Fëanáro set an almost comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Do this right and you'll be rewarded, human. Wrong and it's the goat pens for you. Don't disappoint me.” He said, soft and dangerous. Findecáno would have answered, but at that moment the smell reached them, putrid and rotten, like sewage and dead fish. He gagged, and automatically covered his nose and mouth. Fëanáro swatted his hands down, breathing out a fragrant cloud of smoke. “Don't offend our guest,” he hissed, and Findecáno nodded, his eyes watering fiercely.

The spirit was nothing more than a huge, rotting amalgam of greasy sludge. Fëanáro recited a rote greeting, voice slightly nasal and breathless. The sludge monster stretched out an appendage, something glinting within, and Fëanáro reluctantly put out his hands to receive it. Chunks of slime-covered raw gold stuff dropped into Fëanáro’s hands and Findecáno saw him shudder convulsively, before he breathed out a little more perfumed smoke and turned to Findecáno.

“Fingon here will be taking care of you. Fingon, show our honored guest to their bath.” He instructed, and backed up as the sludge monster crawled up into the bathhouse.

“Please come this way,” he choked, even as he despaired for the cleaning teams in the wake of that awful greasy slime, and led the creature back to the bath by the same route Fëanáro had brought him to the front. The creature crawled into the bath, and the water immediately turned to stinking sludge, overflowing nastily. Findecáno grabbed up the bucket full of tags, even as he was forced back against the wall by the disgusting wave of filth. Findecáno gagged helplessly against the smell, even as the sludge monster set two tendrils against the edge of the tub and peered out at him, a vague sense of disappointment emanating from it.

“More water! Just a moment, please,” he choked, fighting his way through the slime to the hatch, popping it open with difficulty. He dropped two tags before managing to attach one, sending it off to Círdan. He was pretty sure he'd never feel clean again, grease and slime having worked their way in and through his clothing to coat his skin and even his hair. He slogged through the ooze, climbing laboriously up the side of the massive tub, slipping and sliding as he scrambled. He reached the top, grasped the cord with slippery fingers, and as he yanked, he slipped, falling into the mire as fresh, hot water gushed over the slime creature. He couldn't breath, weighed down by slime and water, lungs shrieking for air.

Something raised him up, and he coughed desperately, vomiting up slime and water. He looked around through teary eyes, and realized that the sludge monster had lifted him up, close to its body. There was something brushing against his shoulder- something _hard_. He reached out, confused and slightly delirious, and felt the shape with his hand.

It felt, weirdly enough, like a metal bar covered in squishy, synthetic, rotting material.

“I've gotten Círdan to send us all the water he's got, kid!” Celegorm shouted above the roar of the water, breaking through Findecáno’s thoughts. Findecáno craned his head around to look at the teen.

“The guest has something stuck in them, like a metal bar!” he called down, and Celegorm frowned, confused, clambering up the side of the tub. A thud sounded, rattling the sturdy wood dividing wall. Fëanáro tossed them a length of rope from where he balanced gracefully, lacking his richly embroidered overrobe, looking strange in just pants that buttoned at the knee and a tunic.

“Quickly, both of you, tie this onto it!” He called, and Celegorm assisted Findecáno as Fëanáro mustered the bathhouse workers, getting them lined up to pull, and taking the rope just behind Celegorm.

They pulled, and pulled, Fëanáro calling out a rhythm, and finally Findecáno felt something give. Everyone was bowled over as a load of random, filthy junk spewed forth, save Findecáno, who was saved by a flow of water wrapping around him.

Everything briefly went blank, a memory teasing his mind, before he saw a vision - a man’s face, one that looked like Da and Uncle, and also like Fëanáro, regarding him with blue eyes like a river reflecting a cloudless sky, surrounded by masses of brown-black hair the same color as healthy riverbottom soil. He smiled serenely at Findecáno, warmth in every line of his face.

“You're going to do just fine,” the spirit (because what else could he be?) told him, and he felt something be pressed into his hands. The water receded, and Findecáno was left standing on the edge of the brimming tub. The water was perfectly, beautifully clear now. A hush had fallen, but suddenly someone exclaimed- there was gold in the silt on the floor. Fëanáro hissed, a thin tongue of flame escaping his teeth, and the worker subsided.

“Our guest remains,” he snarled. “Open the gates! Fingon, come down from there.” He called instructions. Celegorm helped him get down, and suddenly a bright blue dragon with a beautiful, silt-brown mane erupted from the bath. Findecáno glanced over at Fëanáro, wondering if the spirit could tell who the dragon was, or at least, who Findecáno thought it might be. Judging by the desperate, stricken expression on the spirit’s face, he did, and Findecáno’s guess was right. He gazed after his retreating grandfather with wide eyes. Someone leapt from the observation balcony even as cheering erupted, caught and sped along by wild winds that seemed to respond to their call like faithful companions, disappearing after the dragon river spirit in a flurry of pale blue fabric and wild golden hair. Celegorm whistled lowly.

“Who was that, to get Lord Ingwë of the Godsmountain gone in such a rush?” He mumbled, before a sharp cough caught everyone's attention. Fëanáro was still looking slightly peaky, but staring around with firm, clear eyes.

“Cleaning staff, I need this mess mostly mopped up, aired out, and perfumed before lights out. Any and all gold you find is property of the bathhouse, and anyone found attempting to sneak it for themselves will be punished. And trust me, I _will_ know,” he promised darkly, magic weaving through the air and making the floor sparkle faintly. “Don't worry about repainting yet, that will be tomorrow's chore. I want all the slime up, and all this junk sent down to the coalmakers. The gold will be collected by my foreman and his aid. Fingon, Celegorm, Niphredil, Tolmedli, you four have the night off for aiding our most honored guest.” he lowered his tone at that, speaking to Celegorm more than anyone else. “Find your friends and get a bath, all right? You did well.” He turned away then, so he didn't see Celegorm blush. Findecáno did, though, and giggled softly.

“Do you like him?” he asked gleefully. Celegorm turned even redder and cuffed the back of his head.

“I do not. I think he's admirable, and also terrifying. Now shut up and let's go.” Celegorm said, and Findecáno let the opportunity for more teasing slip away without much fuss. Celegorm shepherded Findecáno away, acquiring Niph and Tol from the crowd as if by magic.

“I thought we were cleaning?” Tolmedli asked, and Celegorm shook his head.

“Himself somehow found out you helped us. We get a free bath and the rest of the night off,” he explained, and Niph pumped her fist in the air.

“All right! I mean, weird how he knew, but I guess he knows everything, so.” She shrugged, unconcerned. Findecáno looked down at the sorry state of himself.

“Bath?” He asked plaintively. Niph nodded vigorously.

“Oh yeah. You stink, Fingon, what'd you do, swim in the slime? Ewwww.” She waved a hand theatrically in from of her striped nose.

“Kinda yeah? I mean, not by choice. I feel awful.” He shuddered, and Celegorm looked genuinely sympathetic.

“I'm sorry, kiddo, I shouldn't have left you like that.” He said. “Looks like we'll have to burn that uniform, find you a new one.” Findecáno frowned.

“What will I wear back to the dorm?” He asked plaintively. “I'm- _ugh_ \- soaked through,” he shuddered again. Celegorm led them off the bath floor proper and into a steam-filled back corridor, the heat like a brick slammed to the face. They were very near the boiler, closer than any of the guests were put. The staff baths were small rooms, but Celegorm led the other two boys to the largest one, Niph peeling off to a much smaller room by herself, and found some bottles of lavender soap for them.

“Here, found some staff robes,” the older teen said, hanging them up on a peg and opening a rough-spun, stained bag. “Put your clothes in here, kiddo.” Findecáno eagerly stripped, sitting down on a stool and accepting a bottle of soap, a bucket of clean, hot water, and a pair of scrubbing cloths from Tolmedli, as Celegorm ran the bag of soiled garments down to an incinerator chute before coming back and washing off as well.

The bathhouse creaked to a slow stop, the heavy scent of burned sage incense in the air, the early morning breezes coming in through all the wide-open windows.

There was no rain this morning, which was a blessing. They sat on the balcony outside the dorm, relaxed and sleepy, eating meat buns without much need for conversation. Findecáno put his hand into the folds of his robe and withdrew the thing his grandfather (and that was a weird thought) had given him. It was a round, lumpy green thing. He sniffed it curiously, and it smelled like green things, like herbs and grass. He nipped off a tiny bit and ate it.

 _Bitter!_ He could barely swallow, and chomped down the rest of his meat bun.

“All right, there?” Celegorm asked lazily. Tolmedli sniffed the air.

“Bitter herbal medicine?” The bear asked curiously. Findecáno showed them the cake.

“The honored guest gave it to me,” he explained. Tolmedli nodded sagely.

“A valuable gift, then. The medicine of river-gods is highly sought after. Keep it with you, and safe.” He advised. Findecáno nodded, tucking it back away. The bear spirit stretched tiredly.

“Come on, we should get to bed.” He said.

_Deep within the bathhouse, on the near-deserted bathhouse floor, a shadow stirred in the dim, weak morning light._

_“Ah, ah, ah…”_

_Gold glittered between spectral fingers._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hee, told you plot would happen!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for: vomit, No-Face, blood and minor injury.
> 
> So yeah, general warning- I lost my copy of the movie somewhere, so I'm relying on my memory for parts of this, and my memory is bad, hands down. Good thing this is somewhat canon divergence, right? :)

Findecáno woke, startled, from a half-remembered dream of water and someone telling him something he once knew, but had forgotten. He glanced around sleepily, noting that everyone else was gone. The sun was still high in the sky, mid-afternoon, and Findecáno had gotten very good at telling, with all his afternoon jaunts to see his family. Where was everyone?

He got dressed, for lack of something better to do, and then wandered out to the little balcony, sleepily rubbing his eyes. Something glittered and flashed in the distance, and he rubbed his eyes again, straining to see. It resolved itself finally into a sunset-colored dragon, scales blazing scarlet and gold. The dragon was being chased by something dull-colored and large, bird-shaped. A stony-grey eagle? But it was spitting at the dragon, and Findecáno saw that not all of the projectiles were missing.

“Maedhros… _Maedhros_!” as soon as he realized it, he shouted it, calling for the dragon, for sweet, considerate Maedhros to come here, so Findecáno could save him. The dragon arrowed towards his voice, and he grappled for the sliding doors, ready to slam them shut on the great greyish eagle creature. Maedhros slammed past him, and he yanked with all of his strength, getting the doors mostly shut before the grey behemoth struck them.

It shattered, showering him with rock dust and tiny chips of stone. It seemed to Findecáno to have shattered before it actually hit the doors, but he wasn't one to question it, not as tiny stone butterflies wended their way lazily back out of the room, seemingly harmless for now. Findecáno whirled about and ran to Maedros’s side, completely missing when a solitary butterfly attached itself with delicate stone legs to the back of his tunic.

Maedhros had completely wrecked the room, and there were bloody smears everywhere. He was clawing at Findecáno’s bedding, and there was no recognition in those bright green eyes. Findecáno attempted to get the great, serpentine beast to stay still, and was smattered with blood for his trouble as Maedhros went sailing back out through the wood and paper doors, smashing them to pieces. He bolted after him, and looked around frantically, before seeing the dragon trying to get back up the bathhouse, to the top floor. He swore softly, before pelting back out of the room, leaving it in utter disarray. He'd do his part to fix it up later, after he made sure Maedhros wouldn't die.

He tore down the staff stairs, barely registering the fact that the bathhouse was as busy and bustling as it should be later in the day. He slid between Tolmedli and Celegorm as they came up the stairs, and the flame spirit caught his arm.

“What's got you in a rush? There's some sort of big-shot client here that everyone’s woken up for, giving out gold or something. They even called Círdan back up here, he was pissed off. I don't know about it, I think we're going to be in trouble once Fëanáro gets back.” He sighed and shrugged. Findecáno tried to wiggle out of his hold. “It's not worth it,” Celegorm tried to reason with him, before realizing what Findecáno’s work clothes were splattered with. “Is that _blood_ ? Are you _hurt_? Fingon?” He demanded, worried, and Tolmedli reached for him too, concern written over his face. Findecáno wiggled free of his hold finally, and darted away.

“I'm fine, Maedhros is hurt, I have to go to him!” He called over his shoulder, hearing both boys swear viciously and take up pursuit. He wended all three of them into a huge crowd of employees, where he fought his way through the crowd to the elevator. Unfortunately, that was where their ‘guest’ was also headed. Rebuked at the elevator by one of the frog-men, who still hated him, he turned around and came face-to-face with the masked specter from before, grown large and strange and hideous, with shadowy frog’s legs.

“Get out of the way, boy, show some respect!” The foreman snarled, and then simpered to the customer. “Fingon is new still, and doesn't quite know his place, he'll surely be disciplined for you, have no fear,” the foreman reassured the masked specter, who paid him no mind, taking the back of his robes and flinging him into the crowd. Heart in his throat at the casual display of violence, Findecáno bowed hastily. Shadow hands, overflowing with chunks of gold, were thrust out to him, cooing softly again, and Findecáno shook his head mutely.

“No thank you, I don't need it,” he murmured, bowing again. “I really need to go, please forgive my rudeness.” He bolted to where he saw Celegorm’s thin, frightened face in the crowd, and the older teen drew him safe through the sudden crush of people surging to pick up the gold the ‘guest’ had dropped on the floor on Findecáno’s refusal. They popped out into another stairwell, and Findecáno turned to look at the nearest window. It was a service window, and let out onto a small roof.

“Celegorm, do the service ladders go all the way to the big man upstairs’s office?” He asked grimly, and Celegorm sighed, raking a hand through his hair tiredly.

“Yes they do. I can't convince you otherwise?” He asked, incredibly resigned. Findecáno shook his head mutely. Tolmedli joined them on the stairs, a greyish pallor visible under his warm brown skin.

“The guest just ate the foreman and a woman,” he muttered shakily. Celegorm and Findecáno’s eyes grew wide.

“Shit. Uh, fine. Tolmedli, find anyone we know and get them out of there. Lock yourselves up somewhere safe, but especially get the younger workers out of there. Come on, Fingon. If you're dead set on this I'm coming with you.” Tolmedli nodded, and forged his way back into the chaos, and Celegorm boosted Findecáno out the window before scrambling out himself.

The journey up the side of the bathhouse was arduous, but with Celegorm there to direct him it probably took less time than it would have otherwise. He directed him away from and around a couple of routes Findecáno probably would have unwittingly taken, and soon they were propped in the sill of a window, and Celegorm was jimmying the lock. They spilled out into an opulent bathroom clearly used mainly by a small child, from the bucket of bath toys by the large tub. They ducked off into a child’s bedroom, surprisingly neat, with a large toybox against one wall, a small bed with high wooden sides, not quite a crib anymore, and other child’s paraphernalia.

“He has a kid?” Celegorm muttered incredulously. Findecáno nodded, remembering the child’s tantrum that had allowed him to get his job. A rustling caught their attention, a casing noise, and they peered around a curtain, through a cracked door. Findecáno gasped and came bursting through at the sight that reached his eyes. Caranthir was kneeling beside Maedhros’s large, serpentine form, some kind of kit open beside him as he tried to get the dragon to submit to medical treatment. A huge, black vulture perched on the arm of a nearby chair, and in the seat of the chair, watching interestedly, was a small child, maybe three years old, and very clearly Fëanáro’s child. He was a fire spirit, like the Sorcerer, and he was the spitting image of the older man. Findecáno dropped to his knees, reaching for Maedhros, even as Caranthir grabbed his elbow with a cautious expression. Celegorm followed hesitantly, clearly nervous about being in the place.

“Who are you all?” The child asked, petting the vulture. “You shouldn't be up here, Pa will be mad at you.” The child was startlingly articulate for his age. They all glanced at the child and then at each other, unsure what to say, and then the butterfly, which had slipped from Findecáno’s shirt to the floor in his mad dash across the room, glowed. Maedhros growled weakly, and Findecáno wrapped his arms protectively around the dragon’s head, uncaring of the blood smeared liberally over his skin and clothes. The glowing butterfly emitted a ray of light that transformed into a semi-transparent spirit woman. She was clad in a pale blue sundress with a leather apron belted over it, a pair of gloves stuffed carelessly into a pocket in the front. Her long red hair was streaked with white, and pulled back into a high ponytail. Her skin was also white, and it appeared to Findecáno to be made of living marble, because there were greyish streaks in random patterns. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking around at them, and Findecáno felt inexplicably guilty. That was a grade-A Upset Mother Face. Everyone else also fidgeted awkwardly, and the little child buried his face in the vulture’s back feathers.

“Now, what are all your names, and what do you have to say for yourselves?” The woman snapped, and they all snapped to attention.

“Celegorm,” the teen blurted.

“Finn,” the child mumbled.

“Fi- Fingon,” he stammered, eyes dropping to Maedhros’s mane. The vulture made a warbling screech, and Caranthir’s hands flashed through a few signs. Maedhros remained stubbornly silent. The woman clapped her hands, and there was a violent flurry of motion. Findecáno hid his face in Maedhros’s mane, and when he peered up again, everyone was gone. Where Caranthir had sat was a small lion-dog, where Celegorm had stood, a long lizard of some sort. The chair was now home to a small songbird and a second, smaller lizard. He gasped, clutching Maedhros a little closer.

“What did you do?” He shivered, frightened. She gave him a strangely sad, kind smile.

“Still as opulent as ever, idiot,” she said, turning to look around the room instead of replying. Findecáno was fairly sure she wasn't talking to him. While she was distracted, the others crowded over to them, both lizards clawing their way up his shoulders, and the songbird perching on Caranthir’s furry shoulders.

“What did you do to them! What did you do to Mae- to him!” He stroked Maedhros’s mane, unwilling to give the woman the older teen’s name.

“The dragon stole my seal, boy. It was cursed, and he'll die if it isn't broken.” She told him, mouth turned down sadly at the corners. “That's the price you pay for stealing from the Stone Witch.” Findecáno was horrified, turning to look down at Maedhros. The woman turned away, and suddenly the dragon lashed out with his tail, shattering the stone butterfly.

“Oops,” she muttered softly, before dissolving into light. A bit of stone ricocheted and hit Maedhros, who thrashed in pain, tail hitting a curiously-placed lever in front of the enormous wall of fireplace, and Caranthir let out a small, sharp, bark, teeth then finding purchase in Findecáno’s clothing, before the floor fell away beneath them. Findecáno shrieked, grabbing one of Maedhros’s antler-like horns, and Caranthir’s scruff with the other hand, hauling his dog-formed acquaintance close. Little lizard and bird claws dug into the skin of his shoulders, and dog claws scrabbled for purchase at his tunic, ripping it slightly. They were in freefall. A scream ripped its way from Findecáno’s throat.

“ _Maedhros_ ! Wake up, Maedhros, help us, _please_!” He shrieked, words stolen by the howling wind. Maybe they reached him, though, because the scaly body against Findecáno rippled with sinuous muscle, and their freefall became flight. Findecáno wrapped his legs around Maedhros, clinging to the lion-dog tightly, uncaring of the way the other three’s claws dug into his skin. He just wanted all six of them to live through this. Maedhros angled them up and through a pipe, and they burst through into the boiler room, breaking the ventilation fan and crash-landing into the little table, breaking it, too. Maedhros thrashed in pain, and Círdan, Hildifons, and Isengar all started yelling at the same time. Findecáno rolled to his feet, shedding transformed creatures right and left, and reaching into his shirt. He pulled out the herbal cake. It was medicine, right? Maybe magical medicine worked on curses. And if it did, maybe he could divvy part of the cake up and give it to his family.

“Maedhros, I have some medicine I need to to take, okay?” He cajoled, pouncing on the dragon’s head and trying to shove the cake in his mouth. “It's safe, see?” He bit it in half, spitting half into his other hand, tucking the other half back into his tunic. “The river god gave it to me, Maedhros, _please_ ,” he did something crazy then, and pried Maedhros’s mouth apart, sticking his whole forearm into the dragon’s maw. He tucked the medicine near the back of his throat and then pulled his arm free, ignoring the long gash one tooth opened on the back of his arm, and pressed Maedhros’s jaws shut tightly. “Come on, _swallow_ ,” he gritted out, and felt the dragon’s throat work, and then again, and then start gagging. Before he could stop it, Maedhros vomited something up, and then fell lax, his coils melting away to his more human body. Findecáno laid the redhead down gently, before looking at what the dragon had expelled from his body. It was a largish chunk of grey-veined white marble, inlaid with beautiful jewels. A stamp was carved into one side.

“The seal of the Stone Witch,” he muttered, and Círdan whistled, long and low, from where he was pulling out a slightly musty pallet and quilt.

“That's an object of great power you have there, my lad,” he commented, as he and the two coal spirits situated Maedhros in the bedding. “Let me guess, it's cursed?” At Findecáno’s silent, worried nod, he went to a small chest of drawers, rummaging for a few minutes, before returning with a folded strip of paper- tickets? At the same time, the small door into the bathhouse proper slid open, and Tolmedli folded himself through.

“There you are, Fingon. Fëanáro has returned, and he’s trying to deal with that monster, the guest. The guest is saying you let him in, and won’t deal with anyone else.” The bear spirit looked exhausted. “I said I’d look for you. I really don't want to say this, but I think you're the only one who can fix this.” He sighed tiredly. “Will you come?”

“Here. That thing is a spirit of material goods or I'm a hedgehog. Get it out of the bathhouse, take it with you. This is a place of opulence and indulgence, and it’s corrupted the creature. I've six tickets here, Maedhros isn’t in any condition to go with you. It's going to be the sixth station, Swamp Bottom. You get that? You return that item, get those with you un-cursed, and I wager that's your ticket out of here, okay? The train’s only one-way, though, you may have to walk back.” Círdan pressed the strip of tickets into Findecáno’s hand and he nodded seriously.

“Sixth stop, Swamp Bottom, and bring everyone with me.” He repeated softly. “You'll take care of him?” He asked, glancing down at Maedhros. Círdan nodded with a fatherly smile.

“You needn't worry,” the octopus spirit reassured him. Findecáno nodded softly, and Tolmedli told him where to go and what route to try to take out of the bathhouse, to meet the bear spirit down at the river, where he would be waiting with a paddleboat and Findecáno’s clothes. Findecáno nodded, and took a deep breath before kneeling beside Maedhros and taking his limp hand.

“I'll fix this, Maedhros. Please hang in there.” He said softly before kissing the other teen’s cheek and leaving.

“If I hadn't just seen that, I'd say no one loved Maedhros,” he heard Tolmedli remark behind him.

“Everyone has someone who loves them.” Círdan replied, and Findecáno took those words to heart as he went to meet the monster, Caranthir, with the other three enchanted creatures on his back, following after him.

As he hurried up the stairs, he hastily tried to beat some order into his uniform, but the bloodstains, rips, and snags weren't coming out. He used a handkerchief to bind the back of his arm to quell the bleeding. Fëanáro was pacing outside the room Tolmedli had directed on him, and initially turned on him with a vicious snarl curling his lips, but it fell into an expression of reluctant worry when he saw the state Findecáno was in.

“What happened?” He asked before shaking his head. “Never mind. Look, there's a spirit of greed in my bathhouse and I want it to leave. It won't see anyone other than you. I assume you thought it was a guest when you let it in?” Findecáno nodded, shallow and scared. “All right. Just try to get it to leave, I don't even care about the money any more. We will revisit the terms of your contract if you do this. I'll be right out here, and I'll intervene if it gets violent, all right?” Findecáno nodded, relieved that the Sorcerer wasn't going to leave him completely on his own. Caranthir nudged his head delicately against Fëanáro’s leg, and the fire spirit looked down, surprised. “You've a motley assortment of friends, Fingon. Two salamanders, a nightingale and a lion-dog?” Findecáno nodded.

“You don't recognize them?” He asked, and Fëanáro shook his head with a puzzled expression.

“Should I?” He questioned, before a jarring thud sounded behind them. Findecáno sucked in a small gasp, and Fëanáro gripped his shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Have courage. We just need to get it to leave,” He muttered, before sliding the door open and bowing politely. Findecáno copied the gesture. “Honored guest, we have brought you the employee you requested. May I remind you that all the guests in this hall are under my protection, and you have already violated hospitality at least thrice?” Fëanáro’s voice was soft and threatening, but this time it comforted Findecáno. The door slid shut behind him, and a warm, furry body pressed close against the back of his legs. Caranthir and the other enchanted victims.

“Fingon!” The corrupted spirit caroled. “Won’t you have something to eat?” It asked, pouring a dish of food down its gullet. the room was a wreck, spilled food everywhere in the massive clutter of full and empty dishes. The sight made Findecáno nauseous.

“No thank you, I'm not hungry,” he replied softly. The monster stretched a hand out to him, overflowing with chunks of gold.

“I insist,” it replied slimily.

“I don't need it. I thanked you when you helped me get the bath tag I needed, but needed only one. I don't need your gold.” Findecáno said softly, moving away from the outstretched tendrils spilling gold.

“But I have to thank you! What can I get for you?” It whined, like a petulant baby.

“You can't give me what I really want, I have to get that myself. Right now I just want you to leave the bathhouse. It’s making you sick.” He replied, before reaching into his tunic and retrieving the last part of the medicine. He wouldn't need it if Círdan was right, and maybe it would help. “Here, i have something for you.” Findecáno gently tossed the herb cake into the monster’s mouth, where it automatically swallowed. It retched violently, and Findecáno backed up.

“What did you give me, boy!” It roared, lunging for Findecáno, but he turned and bolted, narrowly missing a stream of projectile vomit that splattered over two unfortunate serving women, narrowly missing Fëanáro, who barely got out of the way in time.

Findecáno led the sick, corrupted creature on a chase through the bathhouse, keeping the exit location fixed in his mind. As it got progressively sicker, it got weaker and slower, so soon Findecáno was leading it at a walking pace. It also got smaller, transforming slowly from the bloated monster, into the sad shade he’d first met.

He met Tolmedli at the bottom kitchen exit, hauling himself and his four companions into the paddle boat. He looked up as he changed, calling for the creature as it wandered out onto a ledge. It dropped down into the water, and Findecáno ignored the dubious look Tolmedli shot him, finishing getting changed and stuffing the seal and tickets into his shorts pocket.

“Here you go, the station. The train should come in a few minutes, okay?” Tolmedli said, helping him get Caranthir out of the boat. Findecáno nodded, and smiled at the older teen.

“Thank you for your help.” He said earnestly. Tolmedli smiled back softly.

“You're a good kid.” He told Findecáno, before rowing back. He heard the bear spirit shout a warning at the masked being, and smiled to himself. The two salamander were skittering around curiously, and the nightingale trilled a sweet tune. The sun was high, and Findecáno stretched and yawned, basking in the light now that he was safe. The masked being made it onto the platform just as the train came coasting into the station, the door popping open. Findecáno handed the tickets to the conductor, who carefully counted them all off, including the masked creature.

“Yes, that’s right. You're coming too.” He said, for both the masked creature and the conductor’s benefit, and they boarded the train, Findecáno taking a seat, and Caranthir jumping up beside him. The others also made themselves comfortable, as did the masked creature, after Findecáno beckoned him over.

The train groaned back into motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooooo, we're catapulting towards the finish line, hurray!!!


	13. Chapter 13

_The train groaned back into motion._

The journey was long, and Findecáno fell into an almost trance-like state, trying to stay awake as his companions drifted into slumber. He had to listen for the stop, it would be hard to get back if they overshot, and Findecáno didn't know what they could be facing if they did have to backtrack.

No one spoke on this train, inhabited by shades more than spirits, coming and going at different stops. Findecáno watched the sun set out the window behind him, wondering if they had had to close the bathhouse for the night to clean up and repair in the wake of the disaster as well as the stink-spirit-slash-corrupted-river-god from the night before. He marvelled that Fëanáro had even chosen to reward him on successful eviction of the faceless spirit, when it was technically his fault in the first place.

He wondered how his family was doing. Would the Sorcerer hold to his word? Would Findecáno be able to release his family, or had he wasted the herbal medicine? Well, not wasted. He glanced at the sad masked shade. It was nice when it wasn’t being utterly terrifying.

He sighed as the last golden-red rays of sunlight slipped below the horizon, thinking hopefully of Maedhros. Would the dragon live? It would be too sad if he died, and Findecáno would miss him fiercely.

He turned back to the compartment, and his companions, only to realize that, in place of a lion-dog, a nightingale, and two salamanders, there were instead, four boys in the seat beside him. Two were definitely Caranthir and Celegorm, but Celegorm looked younger, maybe thirteen, instead of sixteen. Caranthir looked Findecáno’s own age, twelve, and the little boy who had been three now looked around ten. A fourth boy - the vulture, and then the nightingale, maybe? - looked about fifteen.

“What happened? Celegorm?” He asked, shaking the other boy’s shoulder gently. The other boy grumbled softly, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“‘S going on?” The blond teen yawned, blue eyes hazy and confused.

“I don't know. I looked around and you were- younger. And not a salamander anymore.” He returned. Celegorm looked very, very bewildered.

“I know you,” he said, squinting at Findecáno, and the younger boy’s heart skipped a beat.

“Of course you do, Celegorm, we've been living together for a month.” He chuckled nervously. Celegorm frowned.

“That's not my name, though. My name is Tyelcormo.” He asserted, and Findecáno’s eyes went wide. He hadn't realized Celegorm’s name had been stolen too. Celeg- _Tyelcormo_ , looked around. “Carnistir, Curufinwë, Macalaurë, wake up, guys.” He shook the other three awake, and Findecáno could feel his eyes go wide. All _four_ had had their names stolen?

“Big brother?” Little Curufinwë muttered hazily, tucking himself close to Tyelcormo. “What happened?”

“I- I don't know.” Tyelcormo looked kind of frightened. “I have these memories. Mum and Pa were fighting, I think? We weren't supposed to be there, and something happened. And then I have these memories of working Pa’s bathhouse. I had a bunch of friends, though. And I was watching out for someone- wait, that was you!” Tyelcormo blurted out, pointing at Findecáno. He smiled a little shyly.

“Yeah, you have been. You've been really good to me.” He told the other boy. The eldest boy smiled, ruffling Tyelcormo’s hair. He opened his mouth and a funny little squawking noise came out. The dark haired boy flushed bright red, cleared his throat, and tried again, the bright blue feathers forming a ruff around his neck, fluffing and smoothing in agitation. Tyelcormo was laughing softly at him.

“Shut up, Tyelko.” Macalaurë grumbled.

“So are all of you brothers?” Findecáno asked, watching Carnistir cuddle into Macalaurë’s side. Now that he was looking for it, they all looked similar. Macalaurë, Carnistir and Curufinwë shared long, dark hair, ranging from Macalaurë’s ruddy-brown scattered with light brown feathers, to Carnistir’s nearly-black, glittering with volcanic glass. Curufinwë and Tyelcormo shared their eyes, the blue-flame-in-glass, shared also by the only man possible who could be their father, the Sorcerer Fëanáro. He had no idea where Tyelcormo’s soft strawberry-blond hair had come from, but he supposed it might be the same place as Macalaurë’s reddish highlights.

“Yes, we are. We've got three more brothers, but they aren't here.” Macalaurë’s voice was soft and melodic, even though he still sounded kind of hoarse. “I- I can't recall their names,” he said, and all four of the boys looked incredibly distressed. The train groaned to a stop, the soft, genderless voice announcing that they were at the sixth stop, Swamp Bottom. Findecáno jumped to his feet.

“This is our stop!” He said, patting his pocket to check for the seal, before they all disembarked and the train chugged away, leaving them on the platform in the dim gloom of a single, weak lamp.

“Now what?” Tyelcormo muttered softly. Findecáno shrugged helplessly.

“Not sure? Wait! Look there, someone's coming!” He pointed to a soft, bobbing golden light coming through the gloomy trees along a dirt path none of them had noticed before. Macalaurë moved to the front of their little group, tucking them all securely behind him. The masked being drifted to his side, and he startled slightly. The golden light resolved itself into a pair of twin boys, appearing maybe eight or nine years old. They were identical twins, with soft, wavy red hair, playful green eyes, and befreckled warm golden skin, save for their hands, which were a rich black-brown. Soft red triangular ears poked out of their hair, and big bushy tails waved behind them. The light came from little, free-floating balls of golden fire, bobbing playfully around them. _Foxfire_. Findecáno smiled, delighted. Macalaurë stepped forward hesitantly.

“Little brothers?” He asked softly, eyes wide. The twins smiled, bright and wide, showing off irregular gap-toothed smiles and adorable pearly fangs.

“Are you big brother? You're dark haired, so that makes you Macalaurë, right?” They chorused in unison, bouncing over to hug Macalaurë’s middle. Tyelcormo strode over and hugged them as well, and Curufinwë tugged a slightly reluctant Carnistir into the embrace. The fox boys giggled, sweet and mischievous.

“We're Pityafinwë and Telufinwë! You can call us Telvo and Pityo.” They chirruped in high voices, and Macalaurë laughed, sounding suspiciously watery. Findecáno fidgeted silently, glad for the brothers at the same time as he was anxious to get to the Witch’s house, thinking worriedly of Maedhros.

...come to think of it, Maedhros looked kind of like the twins, and hadn’t Macalaurë said that they had a seventh brother?

...no, couldn't possibly be it.

The brothers disentangled themselves, and the twins skipped, hand in hand, to the front of the party.

“Mama’s waiting!” They chirruped, and Findecáno felt his eyes go wide. The Witch was their _mother_? Carnistir stopped cold, hands fisted in the hem of his tunic. He shook his head violently, dark hair flying about his head.

“Not going,” he said, actually _spoke_ , and his voice was harsh and cracked, and he immediately clutched his throat with a look of pain. Tyelcormo rested a hand on the gem spirit’s shoulder and squeezed gently.

“Because Mum and Pa were mad?” He guessed, and Carnistir nodded, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of one hand. “I don't think they're mad anymore, Carni. And it's just Mum.” Carnistir shot Tyelcormo a look that spoke volumes about what he thought of that last statement. Tyelcormo shrugged. “Come on, little brother, get on my back. She'll have to get through me to get you, and I'm fast.” He said brightly, crouching a little so that the younger boy could climb up on his back. Curufinwë watched solemnly, before tugging on Macalaurë’s hand with a soulful look. Macalaurë sighed, and crouched so the young fire spirit could climb up.

Thus settled, they walked through the dark woods, lit pleasantly by the bobbing orbs of golden foxfire the twins supplied. The long, winding pathway dropped them out in front of a sprawling farmhouse, the air rich with the scent of growing things. The twins skipped right up to the door, pulling it open fearlessly and slipping inside. Warm golden light spilled from the open door, and there was the scent of something cooking. The group approached with no small amount of trepidation, glancing between on another- who was the bravest? Who would be the first to enter? Findecáno took a deep breath and stepped to the front, halting on the threshold.

“Excuse me please, may we come in?” He asked, and he was proud of the way his voice was steady and didn't waver.

“Yes, yes, come in, you're letting out all the warmth.” A woman’s voice said, verging on impatience. Findecáno stepped in, followed quickly by the four brothers and the sad shade. Macalaurë closed the door politely, and they all turned to face the Stone Witch.

She seemed much less scary, with two little fox boys clinging to her skirts. She smiled, and it was joyful and kind.

“Come in, boys, come in. I've got tea and a little bit of supper all ready. I'm not the best cook, but the twins tell me I'm passable.” She ruffled soft red ears, and both boys yipped in protest. Curufinwë wiggled down from Macalaurë’s back and ran forward, burying his face in the Witch’s skirts. She hugged him close, petting his hair with a soft look. Carnistir refused to look up from Tyelcormo’s shoulder, or get down when the older boy jigged him.

“Oh my boys,” she sighed, looking at her hesitant older sons. Findecáno looked between them all, and chose to step forward, fishing the heavy chunk of stone from his pocket.

“Here you are, ma’am.” He said, and callused fingers took the seal from him, tucking it away in a pocket of her leather apron. She gently ruffled his hair, and he made an indignant noise, smoothing his soft, dark hair back into place. “Please, will you remove the curse? He's dying.” Findecáno asked, soft and worried. She smiled, without the sadness she had displayed before.

“It's already gone, cygnet. Your love for him broke the curse, and in bringing my seal back to me, you guaranteed his survival.” She explained. “My name is Nerdanel, and please, go wash up so you can have some supper, all of you.” The other boys shifted nervously, and Nerdanel’s smile dimmed.

“Um, I think it would help if you explained why you transformed them, back at the bathhouse.” Findecáno ventured nervously. Her expression cleared.

“Ah, that makes sense. I was breaking the curse that was already upon you boys. By putting another spell atop that one, I caused a deterioration, an overload. That made the previous spell, which had already been decaying, to break.” She explained. “I returned all of you to how you should have been by doing so, and returned your true names and memories with it. I hope- I hope you can forgive me. My quarrel with the Sorcerer… no, with your father. We didn't know you were there, listening at the door, my little ones. You were never, ever, supposed to get hurt in a fight between us. We just didn't know you were there, my little cubs. Please forgive me.” Nerdanel’s voice was thick and choked, and she dashed tears away impatiently. Macalaurë went to her and hugged her, and she sank to her knees, cuddling him, the twins, and Curufinwë close. Findecáno stepped awkwardly away to let them have their moment.

“Well, Carni?” Tyelcormo muttered, and Findecáno glanced over at the two remaining brothers. Carnistir nodded, still looking kind of apprehensive, and Tyelcormo set him down, gripping the younger boy’s hand reassuringly. “We don't have to if you don't want to, kiddo.” He murmured, but Carnistir took a deep breath and stepped forward, joining the embrace. He was a little stiff and awkward for a moment, before he sighed softly and melted into it. Tyelcormo laughed brightly and practically jumped in.

A few moments later, she stood, and they got washed up while Nerdanel was busy bossing the masked spirit into helping her get dinner on the table. After a good, solid meal of crusty bread and vegetable stew, Nerdanel and her kids all curled up together, talking softly, as Nerdanel passed around a little spindle. Findecáno didn't know what it was for, and frankly didn't care. He was homesick. Dreadfully, horribly homesick. He curled up on the chair by the door, and buried his face in his knees, furiously fighting back tears.

He missed Mam, and her steady, gentle hands, correcting his stance when he tried to do her fighting forms with her in the mornings. He was always so proud his Mam was a police officer, did he tell her enough? Did she know how much he loved her?

And Da, with his steady hands and his warm laugh. Always ready to let Findecáno help him cook, because goodness knew Mam couldn't. Smelling of dry paper and old books- vanillin, he'd told Findecáno once. The smell made by old books, the smell of Da and the research library where he worked, that was vanillin. He loved Da so much.

Turucáno, who had to be convinced out on adventures, more content to curl up with a book than get thoroughly muddy outside. His little brother could be boring, but Findecáno was supposed to protect him, it was his _job_ , as big brother.

Írissë, who hadn't even said her first word yet. She enjoyed life as a goat, it seemed, but she needed to be able to grow up as a human. He was supposed to protect Írissë even more than Turucáno right now- she couldn't even _walk_ , let alone run away from anything trying to hurt her.

Findecáno tried to be brave, but it was hard not to cry right here, right now. He loved his family dearly, and he wanted them here, with him. _Safe_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom! So, it's called "collateral damage" and it's a bad thing!!! Or, in which, if you're flinging angry, ill-advised spells at your wife, it pays to check if your kids are listening at the door.
> 
> Uh... yeah, not much else to say about this chapter. The tentative end has been set at maybe two more chapters, though, be hype!!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. In the midst of wedding planning (a hectic, exhausting venture), we also acquired a PS4, Final Fantasy XV, and Persona 5. Needless to say I've been incredibly distracted.

_ Findecáno tried to be brave, but it was hard not to cry right here, right now. He loved his family dearly, and he wanted them here, with him.  _ Safe _. _

He buried his face in his knees, snuffling back tears, until a gentle hand touched his shoulder. He glanced up into the kind face of Nerdanel, and scrubbed his face free of tears. 

“What is it?” He asked softly. She offered him her hand, or no, the thing in her hand. A pretty golden ribbon, glimmering strangely in the light. Like it was woven with living metal, or possibly magic.

“For your hair. They remember you, a little bit, and they wanted to give you something to remember them by. After all, you're leaving soon, aren't you?” She tapped her nose, winking. Findecáno accepted the gift, curious about her statement. 

“I am? But I still haven't figured out how to get my family out.” He objected, tying the thin ribbon into his hair. Nerdanel gave him another infuriating wink. He pouted at her, and she tapped his nose. 

“You know the way, Fingon. You know your name, or you would have fallen under my spell. That’s half the battle right there. I'll let you in on a little secret:” she leaned forward, whispering in his ear. “He can't keep you if you know your name, if you leave with what you came with and nothing else that was not freely given. The contract was signed with your real name, yes, but the name that remains on paper is not yours.” She winked, and he stared up at her, eyes wide and mind buzzing, heart lifting with hope. He hadn't thought about that. Wasn't it like the story though, the one where the old man had tried to force the girl to marry him through a play, and she'd gotten away with  _ not _ marrying him because she signed the papers with the wrong hand? He'd seen the name on the contract change. Did his contract only hold because the Sorcerer thought he'd successfully stolen his name?

But how would he get his family back? His gaze traced over the other boys, and he stilled. That was what Da would call a risky gamble, but would it work? He'd gotten the other boys out here, and their curses had broken. If it had been an accident, an argument, wouldn't the Sorcerer owe him now? He'd only taken a very small part in their restoration, would it be enough? Nerdanel laughed softly, looking over her shoulder at the door.

“Fingon, will you get the door for our last guest?” She asked, voice light and sweet and full of humor. He glanced at the door, confused. He hadn't heard anything. No sooner had he thought that, when a gust of wind rattled the wooden shutters. He gasped, bolting to his feet and hauling the door open. He stood, transfixed, for a moment, admiring. He’d never seen the other up close, not unconscious or covered in blood before, and Maedhros was beautiful, long and sinuous, with gold-and-crimson scales, and a thick red mane and whiskers. He was the colors of the sunset, reflecting off of river water, and Findecáno was unspeakably glad to see him, even as he was struck by the same strange wave of nostalgia as before.

He darted forward, flinging himself at the older boy, hugging the only part of him he could reach- his face. Maedhros seemed not to mind, though, if the warm purring was any indication, and the way his whiskers curled around Findecáno, soft fuzzy bands of muscle, like a cat’s tail, almost. Mind still racing, he turned to Nerdanel, bowing politely. 

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I think I need to go now.” He said formally, and she chuckled.

“We'll be along soon too, never fear. You'll need proof, after all. Just remember, little cygnet.” Her face took on an oddly somber cast, and he bowed again before pulling himself up onto Maedhros’s back, clutching his long horns for lack of a better place to grab. What was he supposed to remember? Maedhros’s scales were smooth and cool, and they didn’t scratch his legs like he thought they might. The wind whipped at his face as Maedhros launched skyward, and he buried his face into the soft, almost cold mane. He slit his eyes open, and it felt like being underwater, seeing the sunset reflecting above him.

_ a bright red ball, bouncing into the water as the sunset was painting it vivid colors… _

_ cold water, all around him, his cheeks puffed out from the effort of holding his breath… _

_ “not yet, not now,” a murmur he swore he heard carried through the waters to his ears, as a surge carried him and his little red ball back to shore… _

“Maedhros…?” He said, almost dreamily. The dragon’s ears perked, and Findecáno closed his eyes again. “When I was three, I fell in a river, trying to get my toy ball back. My parents thought it was a miracle I survived, and we stopped going there. Before then we went there every single weekend. I always loved the river, it was so beautiful. Everyone always called it the Painted River, because of how beautiful it looked when the sun was rising or setting. The river’s real name was Maitimo, though. A tributary of the Great Finwë River, the Maitimo River, the Painted River. The river that saved my life at three years old because it wasn't my time to die.  _ You _ , Maitimo. You've been looking out for me even here.” He smiled, and Maedhros, no, Maitimo, shivered beneath him, before his scales shimmered away and they were no longer flying, but falling. Green eyes caught grey, and his face was awed. 

“I remember! You were so cute! I lived watching you play, I wished we could have been friends!” They were laughing as they fell, hands twined together and hair streaming. They were also crying, droplets of moisture whipped away by the wind as Maitimo pressed their foreheads together.

Maitimo soon took control of their fall, even as dawn began to slowly break over the horizon. They landed lightly on the opposite side of the bridge from the bathhouse, and Findecáno realized that Maitimo was shorter now, younger. Sixteen or seventeen, maybe, instead of eighteen. Not much different, but noticeable. On the other side of the bridge stood Fëanáro, and with him were all of Findecáno’s friends.

“You can do this,” he murmured softly, catching Findecáno’s eye. Bolstered by the other boy’s faith in him, he stepped into the bridge and walked steadily over.

“Sorcerer Fëanáro, I've come to petition for my and my family's release from your service, and the breaking of the spell you put on my family, turning them all into goats.” He said boldly, punctuating the demand with a polite bow. Fëanáro frowned at him, but it was a gentle sort of frown, not angry, contemplative. He kept glancing behind Findecáno, to where Maitimo stood at the other end of the bridge. Findecáno felt his suspicion that Maitimo was the last and oldest of the brothers was confirmed.

“What have you on me that I should acquiesce to your demands?” He asked calmly. Findecáno smiled.

“The name on your contract is Fingon. My name is Findecáno, son of Ñolofinwë, son of Finwë.” He said baldly, ignoring the sudden collective gasp, the whispers from the collected spectators.

“if you know this, then your contract is indeed, invalid.” Fëanáro acknowledged gracefully. “However, this does not give me any reason to disenchant or release your family.” the observation was cool, the Sorcerer’s eyes warmly amused. He  _ wanted _ Findecáno to say it, to prove it.

“You owe me for removing the spirit of material wealth,” he chanced. “Even after I admitted I let it in, thinking it was a guest, you said you said we would revisit my contract.” He said, and Fëanáro shook his head. Not good enough. “Then maybe this: though I played a small role, I helped Nerdanel, the Stone Witch, unenchant five people. Boys, like me. Your children.” 

“You have proof? I see only one of my boys.” He asked, and the calm was a thin veneer over hope and desperation. A gust of wind kicked up, and something landed with a heavy thump on the bridge.

“Here's your proof, Fëanáro. Your wife and seven sons before your eyes.” Nerdanel said, striding forward. Fëanáro closed his eyes and breathed a shaky breath, before straightening and looking Findecáno in the eyes.

“Then I release your family. The enchantment is broken, and I owe you one favor. You have four family members, and you saved five of my sons.” He declared, and someone coughed awkwardly. Mírdan tumbled to the front of the crowd, looking horribly sheepish for a deer.

“About that. It's five family members for five sons. I ah, didn't know they weren't just goats until a little too late.” He coughed awkwardly. “Um, congratulations on a new future sibling?” Findecáno’s eyes went wide. 

“B-but there were more goats in that pen!” He blurted out, horrified by the implication.

“Ah, no worries, they were both very territorial over each other and the little ones. Thought it was weird, but if they're people, well…” he shrugged awkwardly, looking like he wanted to be literally anywhere else. Findecáno breathed a sigh of relief. Fëanáro looked faintly amused.

“In that case, your family for my sons. We are even and reciprocal. Be gone from my lands,” here he paused, glancing at his family, tentative and hopeful. He was going to have his work cut out for him making it up to his kids, and he knew it. “Be gone from my lands, and keep in good health and prosperity.” He finished. “Your family is already on their way out. I suggest you do the same.” 

Findecáno turned and ran, exhilarated and anxious. Maitimo caught his hand and ran with him, taking the handkerchief-bandage from his hand, kissing the scabbed cut he had made.

“Leave it, there's no time,” he gasped, and Maitimo tucked the blood-stained handkerchief away into his robe.

“I can't follow you across the river. You have to go alone, and don't look back, whatever you do.” Maitimo breathed, pressing his lips to the cut once more, on the bank of the river.

“I'll be fine. But- will I see you again?”

“If you want to,” Maitimo nodded, looking eager.

“I do.”

“Then I'll find you again, someday. It will take time, I’m sorry, but I will, I promise you.”

Hand slipped from hand, and he ran, not looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last installment, guys, just the epilogue left. It'll be fairly short, mostly lead up to the sequel.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSYCH here's the epilogue. Guess I was on a roll. :)
> 
> Keep an eye out! This story has two more planned:
> 
> At the Headwaters - a prequel/interquel thing involving Finwë and Ingwë and
> 
> Confluence - the direct sequel!
> 
> I don't know when these will be posted/started, though I have some written on Headwaters, I have absolutely nothing written on Confluence. I hope all of you will stick around and maybe try some of my other fics!
> 
> Thanks especially go to Siadea and MeetMeInThePit.

They stumble out of the archway confused and a little dazed. Their car is still there, but it is covered in flowers. Cut flowers, like the ones offered at graves. 

Arafinwë is there, with Eärwen, and Indis. They wear mourning colors, and make exclamations of shock when the family appears. They are shipped promptly to the hospital, where it is discovered that Anairë is pregnant, but the family is otherwise in fine health.

The police are stumped, having rallied around the missing persons case, as Anairë is one of their own.

Neither Ñolofinwë nor Anairë have the faintest clue what happened to them. 

Írissë is obviously a baby, and also making efforts at walking ahead of schedule, and obviously cannot tell anyone. 

Turucáno looks haunted and tells them he had been a goat. They chalk it up to trauma. 

Findecáno tells them they had been in the land of the spirits, held hostage for their bloodline. Most of them dismiss this as fanciful notions of a small boy, another response to trauma. A few superstitious others look to Indis, think of her amnesiac husband, the one who had equally suddenly appeared and disappeared, and shiver, telling her to keep her family close. To not let her children or grandchildren walk alone in the woods.

They have been missing for two months.

Life goes on. 

Findecáno and Turucáno start school a week or so late, but they catch up quickly. They're bright children. 

Anairë takes up her job at the police station, and everyone is immensely glad that she is alive and well, welcoming her with open arms. There's some lingering suspicion, but it's so obviously clear she doesn't know what happened that it's soon dismissed.

Ñolofinwë remains on paternity leave for another month before starting his job at the library, taking little Írissé in with him. Everyone loves her.

No one sees what Findecáno sees. 

When spirits peek out at him from trees and smile at him.

When a laughing carp calls him the Dragon's Bride, and splashes away before he can ask it what it meant.

When his feathers come in, and later, his wings.

When his little brother is born, sweet, laughing Aracáno, covered in fur from the waist down, with cute little hooves instead of feet, and tiny nubs of horn at his brow. 

To everyone else, they are human, an odd occurrence. 

He’s labeled a bit of a dreamer, a bit old fashioned, a bit odd, but friendly. Respectful.

He keeps in touch with Glorfindel and Ecthelion, which surprises the adults around him. He never tells anyone he owes them a debt, the debt of his and his family's freedom. Plus, they're his friends, and he needs his friends.

The world goes on.

Findecáno waits.

**Author's Note:**

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